LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

MRS.  ALFRED  W.  INGALLS 


UCSB   LIBRARY 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 


Hush !  "  murmured  Noel.     "  They  must  not  take  me  alive." 


THE  WIDOW 
LEROUGE 


Translated  from  the  French  of 

EMILE   GABORIAU 


Illustrated  by 
LOUISE  L.  HEUSTIS 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  1903 


COPYRIGHT,  1873,  BY 
JAMES  R.   OSGOOD  &  CO. 

COPYRIGHT,  1900,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Hush !  "   murmured  Noel.     "  They  must  not  take  me 
alive." Frontispiece 

Facing 
page 

In  the  inner  room,  near  the  chimney,  was  found  extended 
upon  the  hearth  the  dead  body  of  the  Widow  Lerouge.      4 

"  Claire — Mademoiselle — I  love  you." 138 

He  went  in  to  sit  in  the  sick-room.    The  lamp  was  lighted 
and  the  sister  moved  back  and  forth 302 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON  Thursday,  the  6th  of  March,  1862,  two  days  after 
Shrove  Tuesday,  five  women  of  the  village  of  Jonchere 
presented  themselves  at  the  bureau  of  police  at  Bougi- 
val. 

They  stated  that  for  two  days  past  no  one  had  seen 
the  Widow  Lerouge, — one  of  their  neighbors,  who  lived 
by  herself  in  an  isolated  cottage.  The  house  was  shut 
up.  Several  persons  had  knocked  without  receiving 
an  answer.  The  window-shutters  as  well  as  the  door 
were  closed;  and  it  was  impossible  to  obtain  even  a 
glimpse  of  the  interior. 

This  state  of  affairs  alarmed  them.  Apprehensive  of 
a  crime,  or  at  the  least  an  accident,  they  demanded  the 
interference  of  justice  to  satisfy  their  doubts  by  forcing 
the  door  and  entering  the  house. 

Bougival  is  a  quiet  maritime  village,  its  inhabitants 
principally  boatmen,  who  ply  upon  the  river.  Trifling 
offences  are  sometimes  heard  of  in  its  neighborhood, 
but  crimes  are  rare. 

The  commissary  of  police  at  first  refused  to  listen  to 
the  women,  but  their  importunities  fatigued  him  into 
compliance.  He  called  into  requisition  the  services  of  a 

i 


2  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

locksmith,  the  brigadier  of  gendarmes,  and  two  of  his 
men;  and,  thus  accompanied,  he  followed  the  neighbor 
of  the  Widow  Lerouge. 

Whatever  celebrity  it  possesses,  La  Jonchere  owes  to 
the  projectors  of  the  railway,  which  has  now  passed 
close  to  it  for  several  years,  with  more  enterprise  than 
profit.  It  is  a  hamlet  of  small  importance,  seated  upon 
the  side  of  the  hill  which  overlooks  the  Seine  between 
Malmaison  and  Bougival.  It  is  about  twenty  minutes' 
walk  from  the  main  road ;  which,  passing  by  Rueil  and 
Port  Marly,  goes  from  Paris  to  St.  Germain.  A  steep 
and  rugged  road,  or  rather  by-path,  not  easily  travelled, 
turning  off  at  right  angles  from  the  main  road,  leads 
to  it. 

The  little  troup,  headed  by  the  gendarmes,  followed 
the  highway  bordering  the  river,  until  it  reached  this 
cross-road,  into  which  it  turned,  and  after  stumbling 
over  its  rugged  inequalities  for  about  a  hundred  yards 
halted  before  the  dwelling  of  the  Widow  Lerouge. 

It  was  a  house,  or  rather  cottage,  of  modest,  but  com- 
fortable appearance,  and  must  have  been  built  by  some 
Parisian  shopkeeper  in  love  with  the  beauties  of 
Nature ;  for  all  the  trees  had  been  carefully  cut  down. 
More  deep  than  wide,  it  consisted  of  two  apartments  on 
the  ground  floor  with  a  loft  above.  Around  it  extended 
a  much-neglected  garden,  enclosed  by  a  wall  of  dry 
stones  about  three  feet  high,  much  dilapidated, — broken 
and  crumbling  in  many  places,  and  affording  but  slight 
protection  against  trespassers.  To  this  garden  a  light 
wooden  gate,  turning  on  hinges  clumsily  constructed  of 
iron  wire,  gave  access. 

"  This  is  the  house,"  said  the  women. 

The  commissary  turned.  During  his  short  walk,  the 
number  of  his  followers  had  been  rapidly  increasing, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  3 

and  now  included  all  the  idle  persons  in  the  village.  He 
saw  before  him  about  forty  peasants  of  both  sexes, 
nearly  wild  with  curiosity. 

"  Let  no  one  enter  the  garden,"  said  he ;  and,  to  en- 
sure obedience,  he  placed  the  two  gendarmes  on  sentry 
before  the  entrance,  and  advanced  towards  the  house, 
accompanied  by  the  brigadier  and  the  locksmith. 

After  calling  several  times,  he  knocked  loudly  with 
his  cane,  at  the  door  first,  and  then  successively  at  each 
of  the  window-shutters.  After  each  blow,  he  placed  his 
ear  against  the  wood  and  listened.  Hearing  nothing,  he 
turned  to  the  locksmith. 

"  Open !  "  said  he. 

The  workman  unstrapped  his  basket,  and  produced 
his  implements.  He  had  already  introduced  a  skeleton 
key  into  the  lock,  when  a  loud  exclamation  was  heard 
from  the  crowd  outside  the  gate. 

"  The  key !  "  they  cried.   "  Here  is  the  key !  " 

An  urchin  of  some  dozen  years,  playing  with  his  com- 
panions, had  perceived  in  a  ditch  by  the  roadside  an 
enormous  key,  which  he  had  picked  up  and  carried  to 
the  cottage  in  triumph. 

"  Give  it  to  me  gamin,"  said  the  brigadier.  "  We 
shall  see." 

The  key  was  tried.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  key  of  the 
house. 

The  commissary  and  the  locksmith  exchanged  glances 
full  of  sinister  misgivings.  "  This  looks  bad,"  muttered 
the  brigadier.  They  entered  the  house;  while  the 
crowd,  restrained  with  difficulty  by  the  gendarmes, 
stamped  with  impatience,  or  clambered  on  the  garden 
wall,  stretching  their  necks  eagerly,  to  see  or  hear  some- 
thing of  what  was  passing  within  the  cottage. 

Those  who  anticipated  the  discovery  of  crime,  were 


4  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

unhappily  not  deceived.  Of  this  the  commissary  was 
satisfied  upon  the  threshold.  Every  thing  in  the  first 
room  pointed  with  a  sad  eloquence  to  the  presence  of  a 
malefactor.  The  furniture — a  bureau  and  two  large 
trunks — were  forced  and  broken  open.  In  the  inner 
room,  the  disorder  was  even  greater.  It  seemed  as 
though  some  furious  hand  had  taken  a  fiendish  pleasure 
in  creating  frightful  disorder. 

In  the  inner  room,  near  the  chimney,  was  found  ex- 
tended upon  the  hearth  the  dead  body  of  the  Widow 
Lerouge.  She  was  lying  with  her  face  in  the  ashes.  One 
side  of  the  face  and  a  portion  of  the  hair  were  burnt ; 
it  appeared  a  miracle  that  the  fire  had  not  caught  her 
clothing. 

"  Wretches !  "  exclaimed  the  brigadier.  "  Could  they 
not  have  robbed,  without  assassinating  the  poor 
woman  ?  " 

"  But  where  has  she  been  wounded  ? "  inquired  the 
commissary.  "  I  do  not  see  any  blood." 

"Hold!  here  between  the  shoulders,"  replied  the 
brigadier ;  "  two  fierce  blows,  by  my  faith.  I'll  wager 
my  stripes  she  had  no  time  to  cry  out." 

He  stooped  over  the  corpse  and  touched  it. 

"  She  is  cold,"  he  continued,  "  and  completely  rigid. 
It  is  at  least  thirty-six  hours  since  she  received  her 
death- wound." 

The  commissary  began  writing  at  the  table  his  sum- 
mary official  report. 

"  We  are  not  here  to  speculate,  but  to  discover  the 
criminal,"  said  he.  "  Let  information  be  at  once  con- 
veyed to  the  justice  of  peace,  and  the  mayor  at  Bougival, 
and  send  this  letter  without  delay  to  the  Palace  de  Jus- 
tice in  Paris.  In  less  than  two  hours  a  judge  of  inquiry 


In  the  inner  room,  near  the  chimney,  was  found  extended  upon  the 
hearth  the  dead  body  of  the  Widow  Lerouge. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  5 

can  be  here.  In  the  meanwhile  I  will  proceed  to  a  pro- 
visional inquest." 

"  Shall  I  carry  the  letter  ?  "  asked  the  brigadier. 

"  No,  send  one  of  your  men ;  you  will  be  useful  to 
me  here  in  keeping  away  intruders,  and  rinding  the  wit- 
nesses I  shall  require.  It  is  advisable  to  leave  every 
thing  in  this  chamber  as  we  have  found  it.  I  shall  in- 
stall myself  in  the  other." 

A  gendarme  departed  at  a  run  towards  the  station  at 
Rueil;  and  the  commissary  commenced  his  investiga- 
tions in  regular  form,  as  prescribed  by  law. 

"  Who  was  this  Widow  Lerouge  ?  Where  did  she 
come  from  ?  How  was  she  employed  ?  Upon  what  means 
did  she  live?  What  were  her  habits,  her  manners,  her 
companionships?  Was  she  known  to  have  enemies? 
Was  she  a  miser  ?  Did  she  pass  for  being  rich  ?  " 

All  this  it  was  important  to  the  commissary  to  ascer- 
tain. 

But,  although  the  witnesses  were  numerous  enough, 
they  possessed  but  little  information.  The  depositions 
of  the  neighbors,  successively  interrogated,  were  empty, 
incoherent,  and  incomplete.  No  one  knew  any  thing 
of  the  victim.  She  was  a  stranger  in  the  country.  Many 
presented  themselves  as  witnesses,  moreover,  who  came 
forward  less  to  afford  information  than  to  seek  the  grat- 
ification of  their  curiosity.  A  gardener  who  had  been 
an  acquaintance  of  the  deceased,  and  a  young  girl 
who  supplied  her  with  milk,  were  the  only  persons  capa- 
ble of  giving  any  precise  evidence ;  and  that  was  insig- 
nificant enough. 

In  a  word,  after  three  hours  of  laborious  investiga- 
tion, after  having  undergone  the  infliction  of  all  the 
gossip  of  the  country,  after  receiving  evidence  the  most 


6  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

contradictory,  and  listened  to  commentaries  the  most 
ridiculous  the  following  is  all  that  appeared  any  way 
near  certainty  to  the  bewildered  commissary. 

Twelve  years  before,  at  the  beginning  of  1850,  the 
woman  Lerouge  had  made  her  appearance  at  Bougival, 
with  a  large  wagon  piled  with  'furniture,  linen,  and  her 
personal  effects.  She  had  stopped  at  an  inn,  declared  her 
intention  of  settling  in  the  neighborhood,  and  immedi- 
diately  went  in  quest  of  a  house.  Finding  this  one  un- 
occupied, and  liking  it,  she  had  taken  it,  without  trying 
to  beat  down  the  terms ;  paid  in  advance  three  hundred 
and  twenty  francs  for  the  first  six  months,  but  refused 
to  sign  a  lease. 

The  house  taken,  she  installed  herself  the  same  day, 
and  expended  about  a  hundred  francs  on  repairs. 

She  was  a  woman  about  fifty-four  or  fifty-five  years 
of  age,  well  preserved,  active,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of 
excellent  health.  No  one  knew  her  reasons  for  taking 
up  her  abode  in  a  country  where  she  was  an  absolute 
stranger.  She  was  supposed  to  have  come  from  Nor- 
mandy, having  been  at  times  seen  to  wear  the  high  white 
muslin  head-dress  of  that  country.  This  night  bonnet, 
as  the  neighbors  called  it,  did  not  prevent  her  from 
wearing  very  coquettish  costumes  during  the  day;  in- 
deed, she  wore  ordinarily  very  handsome  dresses,  very 
showy  ribbons  on  her  bonnets,  and  covered  herself  with 
as  many  jewels  as  a  gipsy.  Without  doubt  she  had  lived 
near  the  sea,  for  sailors  and  seafaring  topics  recurred 
incessantly  in  her  conversation. 

Her  husband  she  said  was  dead,  having  been  lost  at 
sea ;  but,  as  she  never  entered  into  particulars  on  this 
subject,  the  impression  was  that  she  disliked  speaking 
of  him. 

On  one  particular  occasion  she  had   remarked  in 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  7 

presence  of  tHe  milkmaid  and  three  other  persons,  "  No 
woman  was  ever  more  miserable  than  I  during  my  mar- 
ried life."  And  at  another,  "  All  new,  all  fine !  A  new 
broom  sweeps  clean.  My  sea-monster  of  a  husband 
loved  me  for  only  a  year !  " 

The  Widow  Lerouge  passed  for  rich,  or  at  the  least 
for  being  very  well  off ;  and  she  was  not  a  miser.  She 
had  given  a  woman  at  Malmaison  sixty  francs  to  pay 
her  rent,  and  at  another  time  advanced  two  hundred 
francs  to  a  fisherman  of  Port  Marly.  She  was  fond  of 
good  living,  spent  a  good  deal  of  money  on  her  table, 
and  bought  wine  in  large  quantities.  She  took  pleasure 
in  treating  her  acquaintances,  and  her  dinners  were  ex- 
cellent. If  complimented  on  her  easy  circumstances,  she 
made  no  very  strong  denial.  She  had  frequently  been 
heard  to  say,  "  I  have  neither  lands  nor  houses :  but  I 
have  every  thing  I  want ;  and,  if  I  wished  for  any  thing 
more,  I  could  have  it." 

Beyond  this,  the  slightest  allusion  to  her  past  life,  her 
country,  or  her  family  had  never  escaped  her,  although 
she  was  talkative,  and  at  times  very  boastful.  She  was 
supposed,  however,  to  have  seen  the  world,  and  to  know 
a  great  deal.  She  never  went  out  in  the  evenings,  but 
barricaded  herself  in  her  cottage  as  in  a  fortress.  It 
was  well  known  that  she  got  tipsy  regularly  after  din- 
ner and  went  to  bed  very  soon  afterwards.  Rarely  had 
strangers  been  seen  to  visit  her, — two  or  three  times 
a  lady  and  a  young  man,  and  upon  one  occasion  two 
gentlemen, — one  old  and  decorated,  the  other  young  and 
of  a  distinguished  appearance;  these  latter  came  in  a 
magnificent  carriage. 

In  conclusion,  the  deceased  was  held  in  little  esteem 
by  her  neighbors.  Her  conversation  was  often  singular, 
and  odious  in  the  mouth  of  a  woman  of  her  age.  She 


8  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

had  been  heard  to  give  a  young  girl  the  most  detestable 
counsels.  A  pork  butcher,  embarrassed  in  his  business, 
tempted  by  her  supposed  wealth,  had  at  one  time  paid 
her  his  addresses.  She  declined  his  advances,  declaring 
that  to  be  married  once  was  enough  for  her.  At  several 
times  two  men  had  been  seen  in  her  house,  the  first  of 
whom  was  young  and  looked  like  a  laborer  who  worked 
upon  the  railway;  the  other  was  a  big  man,  rather 
elderly,  with  huge  brown  whiskers  and  dressed  in  a 
blouse,  who  appeared  very  fierce  and  even  dangerous. 
These  men  were  suspected  to  be  her  lovers. 

Having  interrogated  all  his  witnesses,  the  commis- 
sary proceeded  to  write  out  their  depositions.  As  he 
finished  the  last  page,  the  judge  of  inquiry  arrived  upon 
the  scene,  attended  by  the  chief  of  the  detective  police, 
and  one  of  his  agents. 

M.  Daburon  was  a  man  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  well 
made,  and  of  very  prepossessing  appearance;  sympa- 
thetic notwithstanding  his  coldness;  wearing  upon  his 
handsome  countenance  a  calm  and  sweet  expression,  al- 
though tinged  with  sadness.  This  settled  melancholy 
had  remained  with  him  ever  since  his  recovery,  two 
years  before,  from  a  dreadful  malady,  which  had  well 
nigh  proved  fatal. 

Judge  of  inquiry  since  1859,  he  had  rapidly  acquired 
the  most  brilliant  reputation.  Laborious,  patient,  and 
acute,  he  knew  with  singular  skill  how  to  disentangle 
the  skein  of  the  most  complicated  affair,  and  from  the 
midst  of  a  thousand  threads  lay  hold  of  the  right  one. 
None  better  than  he  could  solve  those  terrible  problems 
where  the  sign  x — in  algebra,  the  unknown  quantity — 
represents  the  criminal.  Armed  with  an  irresistible 
logic,  he  deduced  the  unknown  from  the  known,  and  ex- 
celled in  collecting  and  uniting  in  a  bundle  of  over- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  9 

whelming  proof  facts  to  others  unimportant  and  cir- 
cumstances in  appearance  the  most  insignificant. 

Although  possessed  of  qualifications  for  his  office  so 
numerous  and  valuable,  he  was  tremblingly  distrustful 
of  his  own  abilities,  and  exercised  his  terrible  functions 
with  diffidence  and  hesitation.  He  wanted  audacity  to 
risk  those  coups  de  theatre,  so  often  resorted  to  by  his 
contemporaries  in  the  pursuit  of  truth. 

Thus  it  was  repugnant  to  his  feelings  to  deceive  even 
an  accused  person,  or  lay  snares  for  him;  in  fact  the 
mere  idea  of  the  possibility  of  a  judicial  error  terrified 
him.  They  said  of  him  in  the  courts,  "  He  is  a  trem- 
bler." What  he  sought  was  not  presumption  or  convic- 
tion, but  the  most  absolute  certainty.  No  rest  for  him 
until  the  day  when  the  accused  was  forced  to  bow  before 
the  evidence ;  so  much  so  that  he  had  been  jestingly  re- 
proached with  seeking  not  to  discover  criminals  but  in- 
nocents. ^ 

The  chief  of  detective  police  was  none  other  than  the 
celebrated  Gevrol,  who  has  so  often  figured  in  our  previ- 
ous works.  He  was  really  an  able  man,  but  wanting  in 
perseverance,  and  liable  to  be  blinded  by  an  incredible 
obstinacy.  If  he  lost  a  clew,  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  acknowledge  it,  still  less  to  retrace  his  steps.  His 
audacity  and  coolness,  however,  rendered  it  difficult  to 
disconcert  him ;  and  being  at  once  courageous,  and  pos- 
sessed of  immense  personal  strength,  he  never  hesitated 
to  confront  the  most  daring  of  malefactors. 

But  his  specialty,  his  triumph,  his  glory,  was  his 
memory  of  faces,  so  prodigious  as  to  exceed  belief.  Did 
he  see  a  face  for  five  minutes,  it  was  enough.  Its  pos- 
sessor was  catalogued,  and,  no  matter  how  long  the  in- 
terval, recognized  on  reappearance.  The  impossibilities 
of  place,  the  unlikelihood  of  circumstances,  the  most  in- 


io  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

credible  disguises,  could  not  lead  him  astray.  What  he 
remembered,  he  said,  was  the  peculiarities  of  the  shape, 
size,  color,  and  expression  of  the  eyes,  at  which  alone  he 
looked,  without  noticing  any  other  features. 

This  faculty  was  severely  tested  before  he  had  been  a 
week  at  Poissy,  by  the  following  experiment.  Three 
prisoners  were  draped  in  coverings  completely  disguis- 
ing their  figures.  Over  their  faces  were  veils,  allowing 
nothing  of  the  features  to  be  seen  except  the  eyes ;  and 
in  this  state  they  were  shown  to  Gevrol. 

Without  the  slightest  hesitation  he  recognized  the 
prisoners  and  named  them. 

Had  chance  alone  assisted  him  ? 

The  aid-de-camp  who  attended  Gevrol  was  an  old  of- 
fender, reconciled  to  the  law, — a  jolly  fellow,  cunning, 
quick,  and  useful  in  his  way,  but  secretly  jealous  of  his 
chief,  whose  abilities  he  held  in  light  estimation.  He 
was  named  Lecoq. 

The  commissary,  by  this  time  heartily  tired  of  his  re- 
sponsibilities, welcomed  the  judge  of  inquiry  and  his 
agents  as  liberators.  He  related  rapidly  the  facts  col- 
lected in  his  official  report. 

"  You  have  proceeded  well,  monsieur,"  said  the  judge. 
"  All  is  stated  clearly ;  yet  there  is  one  fact  you  have 
omitted  to  ascertain." 

"  What  is  that,  monsieur  ?  "  inquired  the  commis- 
sary. 

"  On  what  day  was  the  Widow  Lerouge  last  seen, 
and  at  what  hour  ?  " 

"  I  am  coming  to  that,  monsieur.  She  was  seen  and 
spoken  to  on  the  evening  of  Shrove  Tuesday,  at  twenty 
minutes  after  five.  She  was  then  returning  from  Bougi- 
val  with  a  pannier  of  provisions." 

"  You  are  sure  of  the  hour  ?  "  inquired  Gevrol. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  11 

"  Perfectly,  and  for  this  reason :  two  witnesses,  the 
woman  Tellier  and  a  cooper  who  lives  hard  by,  alighted 
from  the  omnibus  which  leaves  Marly  every  hour,  when 
they  perceived  the  widow  in  the  cross-road,  and 
hastened  to  overtake  her.  They  conversed  with  her  until 
they  separated  at  the  door  of  her  own  house." 

"  And  what  had  she  in  her  pannier  ?  "  demanded  the 
judge  of  inquiry. 

The  witnesses  were  ignorant.  They  knew  only  that 
she  carried  two  bottles  of  wine  sealed,  and  another  of 
brandy.  She  complained  to  them  of  headache,  and  said, 
"  While  you  are  going  to  enjoy  yourselves,  according  to 
custom  on  Shrove  Tuesday,  I  am  going  to  bed." 

"  So,  so !  "  exclaimed  the  chief  of  police.  "  I  know 
where  it  is  necessary  to  search !  " 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  inquired  M.  Daburon. 

"  Parbleu !  it  is  clear  enough.  We  want  to  find  the 
large  brown  man,  the  gallant  in  the  blouse.  The  brandy 
and  the  wine  were  intended  for  his  entertainment.  The 
widow  expected  him  to  supper.  He  came,  sure  enough, 
the  amiable  gallant !  " 

"  Oh !  "  cried  the  brigadier,  evidently  scandalized, 
"  she  was  very  old,  and  terribly  ugly !  " 

Gevrol  regarded  the  honest  gendarme  with  an  ex- 
pression of  contemptuous  pity. 

"  Know,  brigadier,"  said  he,  "  that  a  woman  who  has 
money  is  always  young  and  pretty,  if  she  desires  to  be 
thought  so !  " 

"  Perhaps  there  is  something  in  that,"  replied  the 
judge.  "  It  did  not  occur  to  me.  I  am  more  impressed 
*  by  the  remark  of  this  unfortunate  woman,  '  If  I  wished 
for  any  thing  more,  I  could  have  it.'  " 

"  That  also  attracted  my  attention,"  acquiesced  the 
commissary. 


12  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Gevrol  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  listen.  He  held  to 
his  own  opinion,  and  began  to  inspect  minutely  every 
nook  and  corner  of  the  room.  Suddenly  he  turned 
towards  the  commissary. 

"  Now  that  I  think  of  it,"  cried  he,  "  was  it  not  on 
Tuesday  that  the  weather  changed  ?  It  had  been  dry  for 
a  fortnight,  and  on  that  evening  it  rained.  At  what  hour 
did  the  rain  commence  here  ?  " 

"  At  half-past  nine,"  answered  the  brigadier.  "  I  went 
out  from  supper  to  make  my  circuit  of  the  dancing  halls, 
when  I  was  overtaken  by  a  heavy  shower  opposite  to  the 
Rue  Pecheurs.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  there  was  half 
an  inch  of  water  on  the  pavement." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Gevrol.  "  Then  if  the  man  came 
after  half-past  nine  his  shoes  must  have  been  muddy. 
If  dry,  he  arrived  sooner.  This  ought  to  have  been  as- 
certained before  the  floor  was  disturbed.  Were  there 
any  imprints  of  footsteps,  M.  le  commissary?  " 

"  I  must  confess  we  never  thought  of  looking  for 
them." 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  the  chief  of  police,  in  a  tone  of 
irritation,  "  that  is  vexatious !  " 

"  Wait,"  replied  the  commissary,  "  there  is  yet  time 
to  see  if  there  are  any, — not  in  this  room,  but  in  the 
other.  We  have  there  deranged  absolutely  nothing.  My 
footsteps  and  those  of  the  brigadier  may  be  easily  dis- 
tinguished. Let  us  see." 

As  the  commissary  opened  the  door  of  the  second 
chamber,  Gevrol  stopped  him. 

"  I  demand  permission,  M.  the  judge,"  said  he,  "  to 
examine  the  apartment  before  any  one  else  is  permitted 
to  enter." 

"  Certainly,"  acquiesced  Daburon. 

Gevrol  passed  into  the  room,  the  others  remaining 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  13 

on  the  threshold.  He  took  in  at  a  glance  the  scene  of 
the  crime. 

Every  thing,  as  the  commissary  had  stated,  seemed  to 
have  been  overturned  by  some  furious  madman. 

In  the  middle  of  the  chamber  stood  a  table  laid  for 
one  person,  and  covered  with  a  fine  linen  table  cloth, 
white  as  snow.  Upon  this  was  placed  a  magnificent 
wine-glass  of  the  rarest  manufacture,  a  very  handsome 
knife,  and  a  plate  of  the  finest  porcelain.  There  was  an 
opened  bottle  of  wine,  hardly  touched,  and  another  of 
brandy,  from  which  about  five  or  six  petits  verres  had 
been  taken. 

At  the  right,  along  the  wall,  stood  two  handsome  cup- 
boards of  walnut,  with  ornamental  locks  and  hinges  of 
brass,  one  each  side  of  the  window ;  both  were  empty, 
and  the  contents  scattered  on  all  sides.  There  were 
clothing,  linen,  and  other  effects  unfolded,  tossed  about, 
or  smashed  to  pieces. 

At  the  back,  near  the  chimney,  a  small  closet  in  the 
wall  for  holding  the  plate  was  torn  open.  At  the  other 
side  of  the  chimney,  an  old  secretary  with  a  marble  top 
had  been  smashed  into  fragments,  and  rummaged  to  its 
inmost  recesses.  The  desk,  wrenched  away,  hung  by  a 
single  hinge.  The  drawers  were  pulled  out  and  emptied 
upon  the  floor. 

At  the  left  of  the  room  the  bed  had  been  completely 
disarranged  and  overturned,  the  bed-ticking  cut,  and 
the  straw  with  which  it  was  filled  thrown  out. 

"  Not  the  slightest  imprint,"  murmured  Gevrol,  dis- 
appointed. "  He  must  have  arrived  before  half-past 
nine.  You  can  all  come  in  now." 

He  walked  right  to  the  corpse  of  the  widow,  near 
which  he  knelt. 

"  It  cannot  be  said,"  grumbled  he,  "  that  the  work 


14  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

is  not  properly  done!  the  assassin  was  no  appren- 
tice!" 

Then  looking  right  and  left, — 

"  Oh !  oh ! "  continued  he,  "  the  poor  devil  was  busy 
with  her  cooking  when  he  struck  her;  see  her  pan  of 
,ham  and  eggs  upon  the  hearth.  The  brute  hadn't  pa- 
tience to  wait  for  his  dinner.  He  struck  the  blow  fast- 
ing; therefore  he  can't  invoke  the  gaiety  of  dessert  in 
his  defence !  " 

"  It  is  evident,"  said  the  commissary,  "  that  robbery 
was  the  motive  of  this  crime." 

"  It  is  probable,"  answered  Gevrol  in  a  sharp  tone ; 
"  and  that  accounts  "for  the  absence  of  silver  on  the  ta- 
ble." 

"  Hold !  Some  pieces  of  gold  in  this  drawer !  "  ex- 
claimed Lecoq,  who  had  been  searching  on  his  own  ac- 
count,— "  about  three  hundred  and  twenty  francs !  " 

"  What !  "  cried  Gevrol,  a  little  disconcerted. 

But  he  recovered  from  his  embarrassment  quickly, 
and  continued, — 

"  He  must  have  forgotten  them ;  that  often  happens. 
I  have  more  than  once  known  an  assassin,  having  ac- 
complished the  murder,  so  utterly  bewildered  as  to  de- 
part without  remembering  the  plunder,  for  which  he 
had  committed  the  crime.  Our  man  became  excited 
perhaps,  or  perhaps  may  have  been  interrupted.  Some 
one  may  have  knocked  at  the  door.  What  makes  me 
more  willing  to  think  so  is,  that  the  scamp  did  not  leave 
the  candle  burning.  You  see  he  took  the  trouble  to  ex- 
tinguish it." 

"  Bast!  "  said  Lecoq.  "  That  proves  nothing.  He  is 
probably  an  economical  and  careful  man." 

The  investigations  of  the  two  agents  were  continued 
all  through  the  house ;  but  their  most  minute  researches 


is 

resulted  in  discovering  absolutely  nothing ;  not  one  piece 
of  evidence  to  convict;  not  the  most  feeble  indication 
which  might  serve  as  a  point  of  departure.  Even  the 
dead  woman's  papers,  if  she  possessed  any,  had  disap- 
peared. Not  a  letter,  not  a  scrap  of  paper  even,  to  be 
met  with. 

From  time  to  time  Gevrol  stopped  to  swear  or  grum- 
ble. 

"  Oh !  it  is  a  clever  piece  of  work !  See  what  care  the 
scoundrel  takes  of  number  one !  He  is  a  clever  hand !  " 

"  What  conclusion  do  you  come  to,  monsieur  ?  "  at 
length  demanded  the  judge  of  inquiry. 

"  It  is  a  drawn  game,  M.  the  judge,"  replied  Gevrol. 
"  We  are  baffled  for  the  present.  The  miscreant  has 
taken  his  measures  with  great  precaution ;  but,  before 
night,  I  shall  have  a  dozen  men  in  pursuit.  He  shall 
not  escape  us  long.  He  has  carried  off  some  table  silver 
and  some  jewels.  He  is  lost!  " 

"  With  all  that,"  remarked  M.  Daburon,  "  we  are  no 
further  advanced  than  we  were  this  morning." 

"  Sapristi  !  "  growled  Gevrol.  "A  man  can  do  only 
what  he  can  !  " 

"  Confound  it !  "  said  Lecoq  in  a  low  tone,  perfectly 
audible,  however,  "  why  is  not  Pere  Tirauclair  here  ?  " 

"  What  could  he  do  more  than  we  have  done  ?  "  re- 
torted Gevrol,  directing  a  furious  glance  at  his  subor- 
dinate. 

Lecoq  stooped  his  head  and  was  silent,  inwardly  de^ 
lighted  at  having  wounded  his  chief. 

"  Who  and  what  is  this  Pere  Tirauclair  ? "  de- 
manded the  judge.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  heard 
the  name,  but  can't  think  where." 

"  He  is  an  extraordinary  man  !  "  exclaimed  Lecoq. 

"  He  was   formerly  a   pawnbroker's   clerk,"   added 


16  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Gevrol ;  "  but  he  is  now  a  rich  old  fellow.  His  real  name 
is  Tabaret;  and  he  has  taken  to  the  business  of  police, 
as  others  do  to  painting  or  music,  for  amusement." 

"  And  to  augment  his  revenues  ?  "  asked  the  com- 
missary. 

"He?"  replied  Lecoq.  "No  danger  of  that.  He 
works  so  much  for  the  glory  of  success  that  he  often 
spends  money  from  his  own  pocket.  It  is  great  amuse- 
ment for  him  though !  In  the  service  we  have  nick- 
named him  '  Tirauclair,'  because  of  a  phrase  he  is  in 
the  habit  of  repeating.  Ah !  he  is  smart,  the  old  weasel ! 
It  was  he  who  in  the  case  of  the  banker's  wife,  you  re- 
member, discovered  the  truth,  that  the  lady  was  herself 
the  robber." 

"  True !  "  retorted  Gevrol ;  "  and  it  was  he  who  had 
poor  Dereme  beheaded  for  killing  his  wife ;  and  all  the 
while  the  poor  man  was  innocent." 

"  We  lose  our  time,  monsieurs,"  interrupted  the  judge 
of  inquiry.  And,  addressing  himself  to  Lecoq,  he 
said, — 

"  Go  and  find  Pere  Tabaret.  I  have  a  great  desire 
to  speak  to  him,  and  shall  be  glad  to  see  him  at  work 
here." 

Lecoq  started  at  a  run.  Gevrol  was  seriously  humili- 
ated. 

"  You  have  the  right  to  demand  the  services  of  whom 
you  please,"  said  he  in  a  tone  of  suppressed  passion; 
"  but  I  might—" 

"  Do  not  annoy  yourself,  M.  Gevrol.  I  have  great 
confidence  in  your  ability.  But  to-day  we  happen  to 
differ  in  opinion.  You  hold  absolutely  to  your  brown 
man  in  the  blouse,  and  I  am  convinced  he  is  not  the 
criminal  at  all !  " 

"  I  believe  that  I  am  right,"  replied  the  chief,  "  and 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  17 

I  hope  to  prove  it ;  but  I  shall  find  the  scoundrel,  be  he 
whom  he  may !  " 

"  I  ask  nothing  better,"  said  M.  Daburon. 

"  Only  if  you  will  permit  me  to  give — what  shall  I 
say  without  failing  in  respect  ? — a  piece  of  advice  ?  " 

"Speak!" 

"  I  would  advise  you  to  distrust  Pere  Tabaret." 

"  Truly  ?  And  for  what  reason  ?  " 

"  The  old  fellow  is  too  passionate ;  he  owes  his  suc- 
cess in  the  police  to  nothing  more  or  less  than  his  in- 
vention. And,  as  he  is  vainer  than  a  peacock,  he  is  apt 
to  overdo  matters  in  order  to  make  a  sensation.  When 
in  the  presence  of  a  crime  like  this  of  to-day,  for  ex- 
ample, he  pretends  to  be  able  to  explain  every  thing  on 
the  instant.  And  he  will  in  fact  invent  a  history  that  will 
be  en  rapport  exactly  with  the  situation.  He  will  pre- 
tend, unassisted,  to  reconstruct  all  the  scenes  of  an  as- 
sassination, as  a  savant  who  from  a  single  bone  recon- 
structs an  antediluvian  animal.  Sometimes,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  banker's  wife,  he  divines  correctly;  but  at 
other  times  he  is  far  out  of  the  way,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
tailor,  the  unfortunate  Dereme." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  advice,"  said  M.  Daburon, 
"  and  will  endeavor  to  profit  by  it.  Now,  M.  le  commis- 
sary," continued  he,  "  it  is  most  important  to  ascertain, 
if  possible,  from  what  part  of  the  country  came  the 
Widow  Lerouge." 

The  procession  of  witnesses  marshalled  by  the  briga- 
dier commenced  to  pass  before  the  judge  of  inquiry. 

But  nothing  new  was  elicited.  It  was  evident  that  the 
Widow  Lerouge  had  been  during  her  lifetime  a  singu- 
larly discreet  woman;  for,  although  talkative,  nothing 
in  any  way  connected  with  her  antecedents  remained  in 
the  memory  of  the  gossips  of  Jonchere. 


i8  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

All  the  people  interrogated  tried  obstinately  to  impart 
to  the  judge  their  own  convictions  and  personal  con- 
jectures. Public  opinion  sided  with  Gevrol.  With  one 
voice,  the  assembly  denounced  the  big  brown  man  of  the 
grey  blouse.  He  must  surely  be  the  culprit.  Every  one 
remembered  his  ferocious  aspect,  and  how,  struck  by 
his  suspicious  appearance,  they  had  wisely  avoided  him. 
He  had  one  evening  menaced  a  woman,  and  another  day 
beaten  a  child.  They  could  point  out  neither  the  child 
nor  the  woman ;  but  no  matter :  these  brutal  acts  were 
notoriously  public. 

M.  Daburon  began  to  despair  of  gaining  the  least  en- 
lightenment, when  some  one  brought  a  grocer  of  Bougi- 
val,  at  whose  shop  the  victim  used  to  purchase  her  pro- 
visions, and  a  child  thirteen  years  old,  who  knew,  it  was 
said,  something  positive. 

The  grocer  first  made  her  appearance. 

She  had  heard  the  Widow  Lerouge  speak  of  having  a 
son  yet  living. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  this?  "  demanded  the  judge. 

"  As  of  my  existence,"  answered  the  grocer.  "  One 
evening, — yes,  it  was  evening, — she  was,  saving  your 
presence,  a  little  tipsy, — she  remained  in  my  store  more 
than  an  hour." 

"  And  she  said  —  " 

"  I  think  I  see  her  now,"  continued  the  grocer ;  "  she 
was  leaning  against  the  counter  near  the  scales.  She 
was  jesting  with  a  fisherman  of  Marly,  Father  Husson, 
who  can  tell  you  the  same;  and  she  called  him  a  fresh 
water  sailor.  '  My  husband/  said  she,  '  would  some- 
times remain  a  couple  of  years  on  a  voyage,  and  used  to 
bring  me  back  cocoanuts.  I  have  a  boy  who  is  also  a 
sailor,  like  his  dead  father, — a  sailor  in  the  navy.'  " 

"  Did  she  mention  her  son's  name?  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  19 

"  Not  that  evening ;  but  another  evening,  when  she 
was,  if  I  must  say  it,  drunk,  she  told  us  that  her  son 
was  called  Jacques,  and  she  had  not  seen  him  for  a  very 
long  time." 

"  Did  she  speak  ill  of  her  husband  ?  " 

"  Never !  she  only  said  he  was  jealous  and  brutal, 
and  used  to  beat  her  unmercifully;  but  he  was  a  good 
man  at  bottom,  and  made  her  life  miserable.  He  had  a 
weak  head,  and  forged  ideas  out  of  nothing.  In  fact, 
he  was  a  very  stupid  brute,  but  a  very  .good,  kind 
man." 

"  Did  her  son  ever  come  to  see  her  while  she  lived 
here?" 

"  She  never  told  me  of  it." 

"  Did  she  spend  much  money  with  you  ?  " 

"  As  it  might  happen.  About  sixty  francs  a  month ; 
sometimes  more,  when  she  bought  some  old  brandy.  She 
was  good  pay,  poor  woman !  " 

The  grocer,  knowing  no  more,  was  dismissed. 

The  child,  who  was  now  brought  forward,  belonged 
to  parents  in  easy  circumstances.  Tall  and  strong  for 
his  age,  he  had  bright  intelligent  eyes,  and  features  ex- 
pressive of  watchfulness  and  cunning.  The  presence  of 
the  judge  did  not  intimidate  him. 

"  Let  us  hear,  my  boy,"  said  the  judge,  "  what  you 
know." 

"  Monsieur,  a  few  days  ago, — Sunday  last, — I  saw  a 
man  at  Madame  Lerouge's  garden-gate." 

"  At  what  time  of  the  day  ?  " 

"  In  the  morning.  I  was  going  to  church,  to  serve 
the  second  mass." 

"  Well,"  continued  the  judge,  "  and  this  was  a  big 
brown  man,  dressed  in  a  blouse?  " 

"  No,  monsieur :  he  was  short,  very  fat,  and  old." 


20  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  You  are  sure  you  are  not  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Certain,  monsieur,"  replied  the  urchin,  "  I  saw  him 
close,  face  to  face ;  I  spoke  to  him." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  what  occurred  ?  " 

"  Well,  monsieur,  I  was  passing,  when  I  saw  this  fat 
man  at  the  gate.  He  appeared  very  much  vexed, — oh ! 
vexed  awfully!  His  face  was  red,  or  rather  purple, 
as  far  as  the  middle  of  his  head,  which  I  could  see 
very  well;  for  it  was  bare,  and  had  very  little  hair  on 
it." 

"  And  did  he  speak  to  you  first  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  he  saw  me,  and  called  out,  '  Halloa ! 
little  fellow ! '  I  went  up  to  him ;  and  he  asked  me  if  I 
had  got  a  good  pair  of  legs  ?  I  answered,  yes.  Then  he 
took  me  by  the  ear,  but  without  hurting  me,  and  said, 
'  Since  that  is  so,  if  you  will  run  an  errand  for  me,  I  will 
give  you  ten  sous.  Run  as  far  as  the  Seine ;  and,  when 
you  reach  the  quay,  you  will  see  a  large  sloop  moored. 
Go  on  board,  and  ask  to  see  the  captain,  Gervaise:  he 
will  be  there.  Tell  him  that  he  can  slip  his  cable, — that 
I  am  ready.'  Then  he  put  ten  sous  in  my  hand ;  and  I 
went." 

"  If  all  the  witnesses  were  like  this  bright  little  fel- 
low," murmured  the  commissary,  "  what  a  pleasure  it 
would  be !  " 

"  Now,"  said  the  judge,  "  tell  us  how  you  executed 
your  commission  ?  " 

"  I  went  to  the  sloop,  monsieur,  and  found  the  man, 
and  I  told  him ;  and  that's  all." 

Gevrol,  who  had  listened  with  the  most  lively  atten- 
tion, leaned  over  towards  the  ear  of  M.  Daburon. 

"  M.  le  judge,"  said  he  in  a  low  voice,  "  will  you  per- 
mit me  to  ask  the  boy  a  few  questions  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  M.  Gevrol." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  21 

"  Tell  us,  my  little  friend,"  asked  Gevrol,  "  if  you  saw 
this  man  again,  would  you  know  him  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"  Then  there  was  something  remarkable  about  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  so !  his  face  was  like  a  brick- 
bat!" 

"And  is  that  all?" 

"  Well,  yes,  monsieur." 

"  Can  you  remember  how  he  was  dressed  ?  had  he  a 
blouse?" 

"  No :  it  was  a  vest.  Under  the  arms  it  had  large 
pockets ;  and  from  one  of  them  peeped  out  the  half  of  a 
blue  spotted  pocket  handkerchief." 

"  How  were  his  pantaloons  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  remember  them." 

"  And  his  under  vest  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see,"  answered  the  child.  "  I  don't  think 
he  wore  an  undervest.  And  yet, — but  no,  I  remember 
he  did  not  wear  one :  he  had  a  long  cravat,  fastened  near 
his  neck  by  a  large  ring." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Gevrol  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  "  you 
are  a  bright  boy ;  and  I  wager  that,  if  you  try  hard  to 
remember,  you  can  find  more  particulars  than  those 
you  have  given  us." 

The  boy  dropped  his  head,  and  remained  silent.  From 
the  knitting  of  his  young  brows,  it  was  plain  he  was 
making  a  violent  effort  of  memory.  "  Yes,"  cried  he 
suddenly,  "  I  remember  another  thing." 

"What?" 

"  The  man  wore  very  large  rings  in  his  ears." 

"  Bravo !  "  cried  Gevrol,  "  here  is  an  identification 
complete.  I  shall  find  this  gentleman  with  the  ear-rings 
again.  M.  the  judge  may  prepare  a  warrant  for  his  ar- 
rest." 


22  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  I  believe,  indeed,  the  testimony  of  this  child  is  of 
the  highest  importance,"  replied  M.  Daburon;  and  he 
turned  to  the  boy. 

"  Can  you  tell  us,  my  little  friend,  with  what  this 
sloop  was  loaded  ?  "  demanded  M.  Daburon. 

"  No,  monsieur,  I  couldn't  see,  because  it  was 
decked." 

"  Which  way  was  she  going,  up  the  river  or  down  ?  " 

"  Neither,  monsieur ;  she  was  moored." 

"  Now  think  well,"  said  Gevrol.  "  The  judge  asks 
you  which  way  the  bow  of  the  sloop  was  turned, — 
towards  Paris  or  towards  Marly  ?  " 

"  The  two  ends  of  a  sloop  are  alike  to  me." 

The  chief  of  police  made  a  gesture  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  At  least,"  said  he,  addressing  the  child  again,  "  you 
noticed  the  name  of  the  sloop  ?  You  can  read  I  suppose ; 
you  must  surely  have  seen  the  name  of  the  vessel  you 
went  aboard  of  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't  see  any  name,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"  If  this  sloop  was  moored  a  few  steps  from  the 
quay,"  remarked  M.  Daburon,  "  it  was  probably  noticed 
by  the  inhabitants  of  Bougival." 

"  That  is  true,"  approved  the  commissary. 

"  Besides,"  said  Gevrol,  "  the  sailors  must  have  come 
ashore.  I  shall  find  out  all  about  it  at  the  wine  shop.  But 
this  Capt.  Gervaise,  my  little  friend,  what  was  he  like?" 

"  Like  all  the  sailors  hereabouts,  monsieur." 

The  child  was  preparing  to  depart,  when  the  judge 
recalled  him. 

"  Before  you  depart,  my  child,  tell  me,  have  you 
spoken  to  any  one  of  this  meeting  before  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  told  all  to  mamma,  when  I  got  back  from  church, 
and  gave  her  the  ten  sous." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  23 

"  And  you  have  told  us  all  the  truth  ?  "  continued 
the  judge.  "  You  know  that  it  is  a  grave  matter  to  at- 
tempt to  impose  on  justice,  she  always  discovers  the 
truth;  and  it  is  my  duty  to  warn  you  that  she  inflicts 
the  most  terrible  punishment  upon  liars." 

The  little  fellow  blushed,  and  dropped  his  eyes. 

"  I  see,"  pursued  Daburon,  "  that  you  have  con- 
cealed something  from  us.  Don't  you  know  that  the  po- 
lice are  not  to  be  trifled  with  ?  " 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,"  cried  the  boy,  bursting  into 
tears, — "  pardon.  Don't  punish  me,  and  I  will  never 
do-  so  again." 

"  Tell  us,  then,  how  you  have  deceived  us  ?  " 

"  It  was  not  ten  sous,  monsieur,  that  the  man  gave 
me,  it  was  twenty  sous.  I  only  gave  half  to  mamma ; 
and  I  kept  the  rest  to  buy  marbles  with." 

"  My  little  friend,"  interrupted  the  judge,  "  for  this 
time  I  forgive  you.  But  let  it  be  a  lesson  for  the  re- 
mainder of  your  life.  Remember  it  is  vain  to  hide  the 
truth ;  it  always  comes  to  light !  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  two  last  depositions  awakened  in  Daburon's 
mind  some  slight  gleams  of  hope.  In  the  midst  of  dark- 
ness, the  humblest  rush-light  acquires  brillancy. 

"  I  will  go  at  once  to  Bougival,  if  you  approve,"  sug- 
gested Gevrol. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  wait  a  little,"  an- 
swered Daburon.  "  This  man  was  seen  on  Sunday 
morning:  we  might  inquire  into  the  Widow  Lerouge's 
movements  on  that  day." 


24  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Three  neighbors  were  called.  They  all  declared  that 
the  widow  had  kept  her  bed  all  Sunday.  To  one  woman 
who  had  visited  her,  hearing  that  she  was  sick,  she 
said,  "  Ah !  I  have  had  this  day  a  terrible  adventure." 
Nobody  at  the  time  attached  any  importance  to  these 
words. 

"  The  man  with  the  rings  in  his  ears  becomes  more 
and  more  important,"  said  the  judge,  when  the  women 
had  retired.  "  To  find  him  again  is  indispensable :  this 
you  will  take  care  of,  M.  Gevrol." 

"  Before  eight  days,  I  shall  have  him,"  replied  the 
chief  of  police,  "  if  I  have  to  search  every  vessel  on  the 
Seine,  from  its  source  to  the  ocean.  I  know  the  name  of 
the  captain, — Gervaise.  The  bureau  of  navigation  may 
tell  me  the  rest." 

He  was  interrupted  by  Lecoq,  who  rushed  into  the 
house  breathless. 

"  Here  is  Pere  Tabaret,"  said  he.  "  I  met  him  setting 
out.  What  a  man !  He  wouldn't  wait  for  the  train,  but 
paid  I  don't  know  how  much  for  a  carriage;  and  we 
drove  here  in  fifty  minutes !  " 

Almost  immediately  an  old  man  appeared  at  the  door, 
whose  aspect  bore  little  resemblance  to  the  ideal  por- 
traits of  the  secret  agent  of  police. 

His  round  face  wore  an  expression  of  perpetual  as- 
tonishment, mingled  with  uneasiness,  which  would  have 
made  the  fortunes  of  a  dozen  comic  actors  of  the 
"  Palais  Royale."  Scrupulously  shaved,  he  presented  a 
very  short  chin,  large  and  good  natured  lips,  and  a 
nose  disagreeably  elevated,  like  the  broad  end  of  a  Saxe 
horn.  His  eyes,  of  a  dull  grey,  were  small,  bordered  by 
rings  of  scarlet,  and  absolutely  void  of  expression ;  yet 
they  fatigued  the  observer  by  their  insupportable  rest- 
lessness. Thin  hairs  brushed  flat  upon  his  head,  light  as 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  25 

the  fur  of  a  rabbit,  barely  concealed  his  long  ears,  which 
were  large,  wide,  and  spreading  away  from  the  skull. 

He  was  comfortably  dressed,  neat  as  a  new  franc 
piece,  displaying  linen  of  dazzling  whiteness,  and  wear- 
ing silk  gloves  and  leather  gaiters.  A  long  and  massive 
chain  of  gold,  of  a  deplorable  taste,  was  twisted  thrice 
round  his  neck,  and  fell  in  cascades  to  his  vest-pocket. 

Pere  Tabaret,  surnamed  Tirauclair,  standing  at  the 
threshold,  bowed  almost  to  the  ground,  bending  his  old 
back  into  an  arch,  and  in  the  humblest  of  voices  de- 
manded,— 

"  The  judge  of  inquiry  has  deigned  to  send  for  me." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Daburon,  adding  under  his  breath ; 
"  and,  if  you  are  a  man  of  any  ability,  there  is  at  least 
nothing  to  indicate  it  in  your  appearance." 

"  I  am  here,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "  completely 
at  the  service  of  justice." 

"  I  wish  to  know,"  replied  the  judge,  "  whether  you 
cannot,  with  more  success  than  has  attended  our  efforts, 
discover  some  indication  that  may  serve  to  put  us  upon 
the  track  of  the  author  of  this  atrocious  crime.  I  will 
explain  the — " 

"  Oh,  I  know  enough  of  it ! "  interrupted  Pere 
Tabaret.  "  Lecoq  has  told  me  as  much  as  I  desire  to 
to  know." 

"  Nevertheless,"  commenced  the  commissary,  "  if  you 
will  permit  me,  I  prefer  to  proceed  without  receiving 
any  information,  in  order  to  be  more  fully  master  of  my 
own  impression.  If  you  know  another's  opinion,  it 
can't  help  influencing  your  judgment.  I  will,  if  you 
please,  at  once  commence  my  researches,  with  Lecoq's 
assistance." 

As  the  old  fellow  spoke,  his  little  grey  eyes  dilated, 
and  became  brilliant  as  carbuncles.  His  face  reflected  an 


26  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

internal  satisfaction ;  even  his  wrinkles  seemed  to  laugh. 
His  figure  became  erect,  his  step  almost  elastic,  as  he 
darted  rather  than  walked  into  the  second  chamber. 

He  remained  there  about  half  an  hour ;  then  came  out 
running,  then  re-entered  and  came  out  again ;  again  re- 
entered,  and  again  reappeared  almost  immediately.  The 
judge  could  not  help  comparing  him  to  a  pointer  on 
the  scent ;  restless  and  active,  he  ran  hither  and  thither, 
carrying  his  nose  in  the  air,  as  if  to  discover  some  subtle 
odor  left  by  the  assassin.  All  the  while  he  talked  loudly 
and  with  much  gesticulation,  apostrophizing  himself, 
scolding  himself,  uttering  little  cries  of  triumph  or  self- 
encouragement.  He  did  not  allow  Lecoq  to  have  a  mo- 
ment's rest.  He  wanted  this  or  that  or  the  other  thing. 
He  demanded  paper  and  a  pencil.  Then  he  wanted  a 
spade ;  and  finally  he  cried  out  for  plaster  of  Paris  and  a 
bottle  of  oil.  With  these  he  left  the  cottage. 

Wlien  more  than  an  hour  had  elapsed,  the  judge  of 
inquiry  began  to  lose  patience,  and  asked  what  had  be- 
come of  the  amateur  detective. 

"  He  is  on  the  road,"  replied  the  brigadier,  "  lying 
flat  in  the  mud.  He  has  mixed  the  plaster  in  a  plate. 
He  says  he  is  nearly  finished,  and  that  he  is  coming 
back  presently." 

Tabaret  entered  almost  instantly,  joyous,  triumphant, 
looking  at  least  twenty  years  younger.  Lecoq  followed 
him,  carrying  with  the  utmost  precaution  a  large  pan- 
nier. 

"  I  have  it !  "  said  he  to  the  judge,  "  completely.  It 
is  as  plain  as  noonday.  Lecoq,  my  lad,  put  the  pannier 
on  the  table." 

Gevrol  at  this  moment  returned  from  his  expedition 
equally  delighted. 

"  I  am  on  the  track  of  the  man  with  the  rings  in  his 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  27 

ears,"  said  he ;  "  the  sloop  went  down  the  river.  I  have 
obtained  an  exact  description  of  Capt.  Gervaise." 

"  What  have  you  done,  M.  Tabaret  ?  "  said  the  judge 
of  inquiry. 

The  old  fellow  carefully  emptied  upon  the  table  the 
contents  of  the  pannier, — a  huge  lump  of  potter's  clay, 
several  large  sheets  of  paper,  and  three  or  four  small 
morsels  of  plaster  yet  damp.  Standing  behind  this  ta- 
ble, he  presented  a  grotesque  resemblance  to  a  mounte- 
bank conjurer,  who  in  the  public  squares  makes  pud- 
dings in  hats,  swallows  swords,  and  eats  fire.  His  dress 
was  in  a  singular  state ;  he  was  mud  to  the  chin. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  he,  at  last,  in  a  tone  of  af- 
fected modesty,  "  robbery  has  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  crime  that  occupies  our  attention." 

"  On  the  contrary," — muttered  Gevrol. 

"  I  shall  prove  it,"  continued  Pere  Tabaret,  "  by  the 
evidence.  By-and-by  I  shall  offer  my  humble  opinion 
as  to  the  real  motive. 

"  In  the  second  place,  the  assassin  arrived  here  before 
half -past  nine ;  that  is  to  say,  before  the  rain  fell.  No 
more  than  M.  Gevrol  have  I  been  able  to  discover  traces 
of  muddy  footsteps ;  but  under  the  table,  on  the  spot 
where  his  feet  rested,  I  find  dust.  We  are  thus  assured 
of  the  hour.  The  widow  did  not  expect  her  visitor.  She 
had  commenced  undressing,  and  was  about  to  wind  up 
her  cuckoo  clock  when  he  knocked." 

"  These  are  absolute  details !  "  cried  the  commissary. 

"  But  easily  established,"  replied  the  amateur.  "  Ex- 
amine this  cuckoo  clock;  it  is  one  of  those  which  run 
fourteen  or  fifteen  hours  at  most.  Now  it  is  more  than 
probable,  it  is  certain,  that  the  widow  wound  it  up  every 
evening  before  going  to  bed. 

"  How,  then,  should  the  clock  have  stopped  at  nine  ? 


28 

She  must  have  touched  it  at  that  hour.  At  the  moment 
she  was  drawing  the  chain,  the  assassin  knocked.  In 
proof,  I  show  this  chair  below  the  clock,  and  on  the  seat 
a  very  plain  mark  of  a  foot.  Now  look  at  the  dress  of 
the  victim.  The  waist  of  her  gown  is  taken  off.  In  or- 
der to  open  the  door  more  quickly,  she  did  not  wait  to 
put  it  on  again,  but  hastily  threw  an  old  shawl  over  her 
shoulders." 

"  Sapristi !  "  exclaimed  the  brigadier,  evidently  filled 
with  admiration. 

"  The  widow,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "  knew  the 
person  who  knocked.  Her  haste  to  open  the  door  gives 
rise  to  this  conjecture;  what  follows  proves  it.  The 
assassin  then  gained  admission  without  difficulty.  He 
was  a  young  man,  a  little  above  the  middle  height,  ele- 
gantly dressed.  He  wore  on  that  evening  a  high  hat.  He 
carried  an  umbrella,  and  smoked  a  trabucos  with  a 
cigar-holder." 

"  Ridiculous !  "  cried  Gevrol.  "  This  is  too  strong." 

"  Too  strong  for  you  perhaps,"  retorted  Pere  Tabaret. 
"  At  all  events,  it  is  the  truth.  If  you  have  not  been 
minute  in  your  examinations,  there  is  no  reason  why  I 
shouldn't  be.  I  search,  and  I  find.  Too  strong,  say 
you?  Well,  deign  to  glance  at  these  morsels  of  damp 
plaster.  They  represent  the  heels  of  the  boots  worn  by 
the  assassin,  of  which  I  found  a  most  perfect  impression 
near  the  ditch,  where  the  key  was  picked  up.  On  these 
sheets  of  paper,  I  have  marked  in  outline  the  imprint  of 
the  foot  which  I  cannot  take  up,  because  it  is  in  the 
gravel. 

"  Look !  heel  high,  instep  pronounced,  sole  small  and 
narrow, — an  elegant  boot,  belonging  to  a  foot  well  cared 
for  evidently.  Look  for  this  impression  all  along  the 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  29 

road ;  and  you  will  find  it  twice  repeated.  Then  you  will 
find  it  five  times  repeated  in  the  garden ;  and  these  foot- 
prints prove,  by  the  way,  that  the  stranger  knocked  not 
at  the  door,  but  at  the  window-shutter,  beneath  which 
shone  a  gleam  of  light.  Near  the  entrance  of  the  gar- 
den, the  man  made  a  leap  to  avoid  a  square  flower-bed ; 
the  point  of  the  foot,  more  deeply  imprinted  than  usual, 
shows  it.  He  leaped  more  than  two  yards  with  ease, 
proving  that  he  is  active,  and  therefore  young." 

Pere  Tabaret  spoke  now  in  a  low  voice,  but  clear  and 
penetrating;  and  his  eye  glanced  from  one  to  the  other 
of  his  auditors,  watching  the  impression  he  was  mak- 
ing. 

"  Does  the  hat  astonish  you,  Gevrol  ?  "  pursued  Pere 
Tabaret.  "  Just  look  at  this  circle  traced  in  the  dust  on 
the  marble  of  the  secretary.  That  was  where  he  placed 
his  hat :  so  we  arrive  at  the  shape  and  size  of  the  crown ; 
and  the  height  is,  at  least,  presumable.  Now  the  assas- 
sin put  his  hands  on  the  top  shelf  of  the  cupboard,  to 
get  at  its  contents.  If  he  had  been  a  very  tall  man,  he 
could  have  seen  them  without  touching  the  shelf ;  and, 
if  a  very  short  man,  he  would  have  stood  upon  a  chair ; 
consequently  he  must  have  been  a  little  above  the  mid- 
dle height.  You  seem  troubled  about  the  umbrella  and 
the  cigar-holder;  but  they  are  very  simple.  This  lump 
of  earth  preserves  an  admirable  impression,  not  only  of 
the  point,  but  even  of  the  little  wooden  shield  which 
holds  the  silk.  Then  as  for  the  cigar,  here  is  the  end  of 
a  Trabucos  that  I  found  in  the  ashes.  Is  it  bitten  ?  No. 
Has  it  been  moistened  with  saliva?  No.  Then  he  who 
smoked  it  used  a  cigar-holder." 

Lecoq  was  unable  to  conceal  his  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion, and  noiselessly  rubbed  his  hands.  The  commissary 


30  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

appeared  stupefied,  while  the  judge  was  delighted.  Gev- 
rol's  face,  on  the  contrary,  was  sensibly  elongated.  As 
for  the  brigadier,  he  was  overwhelmed. 

"  Now,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "  follow  me  closely. 
We  have  traced  the  young  man  into  the  house.  How  he 
explained  his  presence  at  this  hour,  I  do  not  know ;  this 
much  is  certain,  he  told  the  widow  he  had  not  dined. 
The  honest  woman  was  delighted  to  hear  it,  and  at  once 
set  to  work  to  prepare  a  meal.  This  meal  was  not  for 
herself;  for  in  the  cupboard  I  find  the  remains  of  her 
dinner.  She  had  dined  on  fish :  The  autopsy  will  con- 
firm the  truth  of  this  conjecture.  You  can  see  the  rest 
for  yourself.  There  is  but  one  glass  on  the  table,  and 
one  knife.  Who  was  this  young  man?  Evidently  the 
widow  looked  upon  him  as  a  man  of  rank  superior  to 
her  own ;  for,  in  the  small  plate-closet  is  a  table-cloth 
suitable  enough  for  her,  but  not  at  all  good  enough 
for  him.  For  her  guest,  she  brought  out  one  of  white 
linen,  and  much  handsomer.  For  him  she  sets  this  mag- 
nificent glass — a  present,  no  doubt — and  this  knife  with 
the  ivory  handle." 

"  That  is  all  true/'  murmured  the  judge, — "  very 
true." 

"  Now,  then,  we  have  got  the  young  man  seated.  He 
began  by  drinking  a  glass  of  wine,  while  the  widow  was 
putting  her  pan  on  the  fire.  Then,  his  heart  failing  him, 
he  called  for  brandy,  and  swallowed  about  five  petits 
verres.  After  an  internal  struggle  of  ten  minutes  (the 
time  it  must  have  taken  to  cook  the  ham  and  eggs  to  the 
point  they  have  reached),  the  young  man  arose  and  ap- 
proached the  widow,  who  was  leaning  forward  over  her 
cooking.  He  stabbed  her  twice  in  the  back ;  but  she  was 
not  killed  instantly.  She  half  arose,  seizing  the  assassin 
by  the  hands ;  while  he  drew  back,  lifting  her  rudely, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  31 

and  then  hurling  her  down  in  the  position  in  which  you 
see  her. 

"  This  short  struggle  is  indicated  by  the  posture  of 
the  body ;  for,  wounded  in  the  back,  it  is  on  her  back  she 
ought  naturally  to  have  fallen.  The  weapon  used  was 
sharp  and  pointed,  and,  unless  I  am  deceived,  was  the 
end  of  a  foil,  broken  off  and  sharpened.  By  wiping  the 
weapon  upon  his  victim's  skirt,  the  assassin  leaves  us 
this  indication.  He  was  not,  however,  hurt  in  the  strug- 
gle, though  the  victim  must  have  clung  with  a  death- 
grip  to  his  hands;  but,  as  he  has  not  left  his  gray 
gloves/' — 

"  Gloves !   Why,  this  is  romance,"  exclaimed  Gevrol. 

"  Have  you  examined  the  dead  woman's  finger-nails, 
M.  Gevrol  ?  No.  Well,  do  so,  and  then  tell  me  whether 
I  am  deceived. 

"  The  woman,  now  dead,  we  come  to  the  object  of 
her  assassination.  What  did  this  well-dressed  young 
gentleman  want  ?  Money  ?  valuables  ?  No !  no !  a  hun- 
dred times,  no !  What  he  wanted,  what  he  sought,  and 
what  he  found,  were  papers,  documents,  letters,  which 
he  knew  to  be  in  the  possession  of  this  unfortunate 
woman.  To  find  them,  he  has  overturned  every  thing, 
upset  the  cupboards,  unfolded  the  linen,  broken  open 
the  secretary,  of  which  he  could  not  find  the  key,  and 
even  emptied  the  mattress  of  the  bed. 

"At  last  he  found  them;  and  then  what  did  he  do? 
'Burned  them,  of  course ;  not  in  the  chimney,  but  in  the 
little  stove  in  the  front  chamber.  His  end  accomplished, 
what  does  he  then  ?  He  flies,  carrying  with  him  all  that 
he  finds  valuable,  to  mislead  pursuit,  and  baffle  detec- 
tion, by  indicating  a  robbery.  Having  bundled  them  to- 
gether, he  wrapped  these  valuables  in  the  napkin  which 
was  to  have  served  him  at  dinner ;  and,  blowing  out  th<* 


32  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

candle,  he  fled,  locking  the  door,  and  afterwards  throw- 
ing the  key  into  the  ditch. 

''  That  is  my  idea  of  the  case,  M.  the  judge." 

"  M.  Tabaret,"  said  the  judge,  "  your  investigation  is 
admirable ;  and  I  am  persuaded  your  inferences  are  cor- 
rect." 

"  Ah !  "  cried  Lecoq,  "  is  he  not  colossal  ?  Papa 
Tirauclair  ?  " 

"  Pyramidal !  "  cried  Gevrol  ironically.  "  I  fear,  how- 
ever, your  well-dressed  young  man  must  have  been 
much  embarrassed  in  carrying  a  bundle  at  once  so  incon- 
venient and  so  remarkable." 

"  He  did  not  carry  it  a  hundred  leagues,"  responded 
Pere  Tabaret.  "  You  may  well  believe,  that,  to  reach 
the  railway  station,  he  would  not  risk  taking  the  omni- 
bus. No,  he  returned  on  foot  by  the  shortest  way,  to 
the  edge  of  the  water.  Now,  on  arriving  at  the  Seine,  it 
will  not  be  too  strong,  I  hope,  to  suppose  his  first  care 
was  to  throw  into  it  this  tell-tale  bundle." 

"  Do  you  believe  so,  Papa  Tirauclair  ?  "  demanded 
Gevrol. 

"  I  will  wager  on  it ;  and  the  best  evidence  of  my  be- 
lief is,  that  I  have  sent  three  men,  under  the  surveillance 
of  a  gendarme  to  drag  the  Seine  at  the  nearest  spot.  If 
they  succeed  in  finding  the  bundle,  I  have  promised 
them  a  recompense." 

"  From  your  own  pocket,  old  enthusiast  ?  " 

"  Yes,  M.  Gevrol,  from  my  own  pocket." 

"  If  they  find  this  bundle,  however, — "  murmured 
the  judge. 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  gendarme. 

"  Here,"  said  he, — "  here  is  a  soiled  table-napkin, 
filled  with  plate,  silver,  and  jewels,  which  these  men 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  33 

have  found;  they  claim  the  hundred  francs'  reward, 
promised  them." 

Pere  Tabaret  took  from  his  pocket-book  a  bank  bill, 
which  he  handed  to  the  gendarme. 

"  Now,"  demanded  he,  ignoring  M.  Gevrol  with  a 
superb  disdain,  "  what  thinks  M.  the  judge  of  in- 
quiry? " 

"  That,  thanks  to  your  penetration,  we  shall  come  to 
the  point, — 

He  did  not  finish.  The  doctor  summoned  to  make 
the  post  mortem  examination  appeared. 

That  unpleasant  task  accomplished,  it  only  confirmed 
the  assertions  and  conjectures  of  Pere  Tabaret.  The 
doctor  explained  as  he  had  the  position  of  the  body.  In 
his  opinion,  there  had  been  a  brief  but  fierce  struggle. 
He  pointed  out  a  bluish  circle,  hardly  perceptible,  round 
the  neck  of  the  victim  produced  apparently  by  the 
powerful  grasp  of  the  murderer;  then  he  declared  the 
Widow  Lerouge  had  dined  three  hours  before  being 
struck. 

Nothing  now  remained  except  to  collect  the  frag- 
ments of  evidence  received,  which  might  at  a  later  pe- 
riod confound  the  culprit. 

Pere  Tabaret  examined  with  extreme  care  the  dead 
woman's  fingers ;  and,  using  infinite  precaution,  he  even 
extracted  from  beneath  the  nails  several  small  particles 
of  gray  kid.  The  largest  of  these  fragments  was  not 
above  two  millemetres  in  length ;  but  their  color  was 
easily  distinguishable.  He  put  aside  also  the  part  of  the 
dress  upon  which  the  assassin  had  wiped  the  weapon. 
These,  with  the  bundle  recovered  from  the  Seine,  and 
the  cast  of  the  footprints  taken  by  the  old  fellow,  were 
all  the  traces  the  murderer  had  left  behind  him. 


34  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

It  was  nothing ;  but  this  nothing  was  enormous  in  the 
eyes  of  M.  Daburon:  and  he  had  strong  hopes  of  dis- 
covering the  culprit.  The  greatest  obstacle  to  success  in 
the  unravelling  of  mysterious  crime  is  in  mistaking  the 
motive.  If  the  researches  take  at  the  first  step  a  false 
direction,  they  are  diverted  further  and  further  from  the 
truth,  in  proportion  to  the  length  they  are  followed. 
Thanks  to  Pere  Tabaret,  the  judge  felt  confident  that 
he  was  in  the  right  path. 

Night  had  come  on.  The  judge  had  nothing  more  to 
do  at  Jonchere ;  but  Gevrol,  who  still  clung  to  his  own 
opinion  of  the  guilt  of  the  man  with  the  rings  in  his 
ears,  declared  he  would  remain  at  Bougival.  He  deter- 
mined to  employ  the  evening  in  visiting  the  different 
wine  shops,  and  finding  if  possible  new  witnesses. 

At  the  moment  of  departure,  after  the  commissary 
and  the  entire  party  had  received  their  congee  from  M. 
Daburon,  the  latter  asked  Pere  Tabaret  to  accompany 
him. 

"  I  was  about  to  solicit  that  honor,"  replied  the  old 
fellow.  They  set  out  together;  and  naturally  the  crime 
which  had  been  discovered,  and  with  which  they  were 
mutually  preoccupied,  formed  the  subject  of  their  con- 
versation. 

"  Can  we,  or  can  we  not,  ascertain  the  antecedents  of 
this  woman  ?  "  repeated  Pere  Tabaret.  "  All  depends 
upon  that,  after  all !  " 

"  We  shall  ascertain  them,  if  the  grocer  has  told  the 
truth,"  replied  M.  Daburon.  "  If  the  Widow  Lerouge 
has  had  a  husband  a  sailor,  and  there  is  now  a  son  of 
hers  named  Jacques  in  the  navy,  the  minister  of  marine 
can  furnish  information  that  will  lead  to  its  discovery. 
I  will  write  to  the  minister  this  very  night." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  35 

They  arrived  at  the  station  at  Rueil,  and  took  their 
places  in  the  train.  They  were  so  fortunate  as  to  secure 
a  compartment  to  themselves. 

But  Pere  Tabaret  was  not  disposed  for  conversation. 
He  reflected,  he  sought,  he  combined;  and  in  his  face 
might  easily  be  read  the  working  of  his  thoughts.  The 
judge  felt  singularly  attracted  by  this  eccentric  old  man, 
whose  very  original  taste  had  led  him  to  devote  his  ser- 
vices to  the  bureau  of  secret  police  in  the  Rue  Jerusa- 
lem. 

"  M.  Tabaret,"  demanded  he  brusquely,  "  have  you 
been  long  associated  with  the  police  ?  " 

"  Nine  years,  M.  the  judge, — more  than  nine  years; 
and  permit  me  to  confess  I  am  a  little  surprised  that 
you  have  never  before  heard  of  me." 

"  I  certainly  know  you  by  reputation,"  answered  M. 
Daburon ;  "  and  it  was  in  consequence  of  hearing  of 
your  talent  that  the  excellent  idea  of  asking  your  assist- 
ance occurred  to  me.  But  what  was  the  occasion  of 
your  adopting  this  employment  ?  " 

"  Chagrin,  M.  the  judge,  isolation,  ennui.  Ah !  I 
have  not  always  been  happy !  " 

"  I  hear,  though,  that  you  are  rich." 

The  old  fellow  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  as  he  recalled  what 
seemed  to  him  the  crudest  deception.  "  I  am  well  off, 
monsieur,"  replied  he ;  "  but  I  have  not  always  been. 
Until  I  was  forty-five  years  old,  my  life  was  a  series 
of  absurd  and  useless  privations.  I  had  a  father  who 
ruined  my  youth,  wasted  my  manhood,  and  made  me 
the  most  pitiable  of  human  creatures." 

There  are  men  who  can  never  divest  themselves  of 
their  professional  habits.  M.  Daburon  was  at  all  times 
and  seasons  a  little  of  a  judge  of  inquiry. 


36       .          THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  How,  M.  Tabaret,"  said  he,  "  your  father  the  au- 
thor of  your  misfortunes  ?  " 

"  Alas,  yes,  monsieur !  I  have  forgiven  him  long 
since ;  but  once  I  cursed  him.  In  the  first  transports  of 
my  resentment,  I  heaped  upon  his  memory  all  the  in- 
juries that  can  be  inspired  by  the  most  violent  hatred. 
Even  now,  when  I  think, — but  I  will  confide  to  you  my 
history  M.  Daburon. 

"  When  I  was  five  and  twenty  years  of  age,  I  was 
earning  two  thousand  francs  a  year,  as  clerk  in  a  pawn- 
broker's. One  morning  my  father  entered  my  apart- 
ment, and  announced  to  me  abruptly  that  he  was  ruined, 
and  wanted  food  and  shelter.  He  appeared  in  despair, 
and  declared  he  had  done  with  life.  I  loved  my  father. 
Naturally,  I  strove  to  reassure  him.  I  boasted  of  my 
situation,  and  explained  to  him  at  some  length,  that, 
while  I  earned  the  means  of  living,  he  should  want  for 
nothing;  and,  to  commence,  I  insisted  that  henceforth 
we  should  live  together.  No  sooner  said  than  done; 
and  during  twenty  years,  the  best  twenty  years  of  my 
life,  I  was  encumbered  with  the  old — " 

"  How  ?  you  repent  of  your  filial  conduct,  M.  Ta- 
baret?" 

"  Yes,  I  do  repent  of  it ;  that  is  to  say,  I  wish  the  old 
wretch  had'received  his  deserts ;  for  then  he  would  have 
been  poisoned  by  the  bread  which  I  gave  him." 

Daburon  was  unable  to  repress  a  gesture  of  surprise, 
which  did  not  escape  the  old  fellow's  notice. 

"  Hear,  before  you  condemn  me,"  said  he.  "  There 
I  was  at  twenty-five,  imposing  upon  myself  the  severest 
privations  for  sake  of  my  father, — no  more  friends, 
no  more  flirtations,  nothing.  In  the  evenings,  to  aug- 
ment our  scanty  revenues,  I  worked  at  copying  law 
papers  for  a  notary.  I  denied  myself  even  the  luxury 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  37 

of  a  cigar.  Notwithstanding,  the  old  skinflint  com- 
plained without  ceasing.  He  regretted  his  lost  fortune. 
He  wanted  pocket-money.  He  wanted  this,  he  wanted 
that.  My  utmost  exertions  failed  to  satisfy  him.  Ah, 
heaven  alone  knows  what  I  have  suffered !  I  was  not 
born  to  live  alone  to  old  age,  like  a  dog.  I  longed  for  the 
pleasures  of  a  home  and  a  family.  My  dream  of  hap- 
piness was  marriage, — an  adored  wife,  by  whom  I  might 
be  loved  a  little,  innocent  little  ones  gambolling  about 
my  knees ;  but  pshaw !  when  such  thoughts  entered  my 
heart  and  forced  a  tear  or  two  from  my  eyes,  I  rebelled 
against  myself.  I  said :  '  My  lad,  when  you  earn  but 
three  thousand  francs  a  year,  and  have  an  old  and  cher- 
ished father  to  support,  it  is  your  duty  to  stifle  such  de- 
sires, and  remain  a  bachelor.'  In  the  mean  time,  I  fell 
in  love.  Hold,  do  not  laugh  at  me.  I  was  but  thirty 
years  of  age  then;  and,  old  and  ugly  as  I  am  now,  I 
was  a  good  looking  fellow  at  that  time.  She, — she  was 
called  Hortense.  I  could  not  marry  her  and  continue  to 
provide  for  him.  Who  can  tell  what  became  of  her? 
I  lost  sight  of  her.  She  waited  long;  but,  alas!  she 
was  pretty  and  poor.  When  my  father  died,  and  left  me 
free,  I  was  an  old  man.  The  miserable,  miserly  old, — " 

"M.  Tabaret!"  interrupted  the  judge,— "  M.  Tab- 
aret!" 

"  Yes,  yes,  monsieur,  I  have  forgiven  him  long  ago, 
I  am  a  good  Christian ;  but  you  will  understand  my  an- 
ger when  I  tell  you,  the  day  of  his  death,  looking  in  his 
secretary  in  the  hope  of  finding  enough  to  bury  the  old 
hypocrite,  I  found  a  memorandum  of  twenty  thousand 
francs  of  rent !  " 

"  He  was  rich,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  rich ;  for  that  was  not  all :  he  owned  near 
Orleans  a  property  leased  for  six  thousand  francs  a 


38  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

year.  He  owned  besides,  the  house  I  now  live  in,  where 
we  lived  together;  and  I  fool,  sot,  imbecile,  stupid  an- 
imal that  I  was,  used  to  pay  the  rent  every  three  months 
to  the  concierge !  " 

"  Cruel  fortune !  "  M.  Daburon  could  not  help  say- 
ing. 

"  Was  it  not,  monsieur  ?  I  was  robbing  myself  of 
my  own  money !  To  crown  the  absurdity,  he  left  a 
testament,  wherein  he  declared  he  had  no  other  aim  in 
view,  in  thus  acting,  than  my  advantage.  He  wished, 
he  said,  to  habituate  me  to  habits  of  good  order  and 
economy,  and  keep  me  from  the  commission  of  follies. 
And  so,  monsieur,  I  was  at  forty-five  a  rich  man,  who 
for  twenty  years,  could  not  accuse  himself  of  having  ex- 
pended uselessly  a  single  sou.  In  short,  he  had  specu- 
lated on  my  good  heart  to  rob  me  of  my  life's  happiness. 
Bah !  it  is  enough  to  disgust  the  human  race  with  filial 
piety." 

M.  Tabaret's  anger,  albeit  very  real,  was  so  highly 
ludicrous  in  its  effect  upon  his  features  and  gesture 
that  the  judge  had  much  difficulty  to  restrain  his  laugh- 
ter, although  touched  with  pity  at  the  recital. 

"  After  all,"  said  he,  "  this  fortune  ought  to  give 
you  pleasure." 

"  No,  monsieur,  it  came  too  late.  Of  what  avail  to 
have  the  bread  when  one  has  no  longer  the  teeth? 

"  The  best  part  of  life  was  gone,  the  age  of  hap- 
piness had  passed.  I  resigned  my  situation  at  the  pawn- 
broker's, to  make  way  for  some  other  poor  devil,  and 
became  a  gentleman  at  large.  At  the  end  of  a  month, 
I  was  ennuied  to  death ;  and.  to  replace  the  interest  in 
life  I  despaired  of  gaining,  I  resolved  to  give  myself  a 
passion,  a  hobby,  a  mania.  I  became  a  collector  of 
books.  You  think  perhaps,  monsieur,  that  to  take  an 


WIDOW  LEROUGE  39 

interest  in  books  a  man  must  have  studied,  must  be 
learned  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur ;  but  he  must  have  money.  I  am  ac- 
quainted with  an  illustrious  bibliomaniac  who  actually 
cannot  read  his  own  name." 

"  It  is  very  possible,  monsieur :  but  I  could  read ;  and 
I  read  all  the  books  I  bought,  and  mine  is  an  unique 
collection.  It  consists  of  all  the  works  I  could  find 
far  or  near,  that  related  aught  concerning  the  police. 
Memoirs,  reports,  discourses,  letters, — all  were  delight- 
ful to  me ;  and  I  devoured  them  as  Don  Quixote  did  the 
books  of  chivalry. 

"  Reading  these  adventures  so  exciting  and  so  real,  I 
became  little  by  little  attracted  towards  this  mysterious 
power  which  from  the  obscurity  of  the  Rue  Jerusalem 
watches  over  and  protects  society  from  fraud  and  vio- 
lence,— that  unseen  hand  that  lifts  the  most  impervious 
veil;  that  invisible  eye  that  sees  through  every  plot; 
that  unknown  intelligence  that  divines  even  the  secrets 
of  men's  hearts,  knows  to  a  grain  weight  the  worth  of 
women's  reputation  and  the  price  of  men's  integrity; 
that  universal  confidant  who  keeps  in  her  secret  record 
the  most  terrible  as  well  as  the  most  shameful  confes- 
sions ! 

"  In  reading  the  memoirs  of  celebrated  police  agents 
(more  attractive  matter  to  me  than  the  fables  of  our  best 
authors)  I  became  inspired  bv  an  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion for  those  men,  so  untiring  in  pursuit,  so  fertile  in 
expedient,  who  follow  crime  to  his  stronghold  as  re- 
lentlessly  as  the  savages  of  Cooper  pursue  their  enemies 
in  the  depths  of  the  American  forest.  The  desire  seized 
me  to  become  a  wheel  of  this  admirable  machine, — a 
small  assistance  in  the  punishment  of  crime  and  the  tri- 
umph of  innocence.  I  have  made  the  essay;  and  I 


40  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

am  proud  to  say,  monsieur,  I  find  I  have  not  mistaken 
my  vocation." 

"  Then  this  employment  pleases  you  ?  " 

"  I  owe  to  it,  monsieur,  my  liveliest  enjoyments. 
Adieu  ennui !  Since  I  have  abandoned  the  pursuit  of 
old  worm-eaten  books  for  this  to  which  I  am  equal,  I 
am  happy.  I  shrug  the  shoulder  when  I  see  a  foolish 
fellow  pay  twenty-five  francs  for  the  right  of  hunting 
a  hare.  What  a  prize !  Give  me  the  hunting  of  a  man ! 
That  calls  the  faculties  into  play,  and  the  victory  is  not 
inglorious !  The  game  in  my  sport  is  worth  the  hunter. 
He  has  against  him  intelligence,  force,  and  cunning. 
The  arms  are  nearly  equal.  Ah !  if  people  knew  the  ex- 
citement of  these  parties  of  hide  and  seek  which  are 
played  between  the  criminal  and  the  detective,  everybody 
would  be  wanting  employment  at  the  bureau  of  secret 
police.  The  misfortune  is,  that  the  art  is  being  lost 
because  fine  crimes  are  rare.  The  race  of  strong  crim- 
inals, fearless  and  ingenious,  has  given  place  to  a  mob 
of  vulgar  pickers  and  stealers,  hardly  worth  hunting 
after, — blunderers  as  well  as  cowards,  who  sign  their 
names  to  their  misdeeds,  and  even  leave  you  their  cartes 
de  visile.  There  is  no  merit  in  catching  them :  their 
work  examined,  nothing  remains  but  their  arrest." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  M.  Daburon,  smiling,  "  that 
cur  assassin  is  not  such  a  bungler." 

"  This  case,  monsieur,  is  an  exception ;  and  I  shall 
have  the  greater  delight  in  tracing  him :  and  I  will  trace 
him,  though  I  should  compromise  myself  in  the  pursuit. 
For  I  ought  to  confess,  M.  le  judge,"  added  he  with  a 
ludicrous  embarrassment,  "  that  I  do  not  boast  to  my 
friends  of  my  exploits,  but  conceal  them  as  carefully  as 
possible.  They  would  join  hands  with  me  less  warmly 
did  they  know  that  Tirauclair  and  Tabaret  are  one." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  41 

Insensibly  the  crime  became  again  the  subject  of  con- 
versation. It  was  agreed,  that,  in  the  morning,  Pere 
Tabaret  should  instal  himself  at  Bougival.  He  could 
by  hard  work  examine  all  the  peasants  in  the  country 
in  eight  days.  On  his  side  the  judge  promised  to  keep 
him  advised  of  the  least  evidence  that  transpired,  and 
recall  him,  if  by  any  accident  he  should  procure  the 
papers  of  the  Widow  Lerouge. 

"  To  you,  M.  Tabaret,"  said  the  judge  in  conclusion, 
"  I  shall  be  always  visible.  If  you  have  any  thing  to 
speak  of,  do  not  hesitate  to  come  at  night  as  well  as  dur- 
ing the  day.  I  rarely  go  abroad ;  and  you  will  always 
find  me  at  home,  Rue  Jacob.  When  not  in  my  office  at 
the  Palais  de  Justice,  I  shall  leave  orders  for  your  ad- 
mittance whenever  you  present  yourself." 

The  train  entered  the  depot  at  this  moment.  M.  Da- 
buron  having  called  a  hackney  coach,  offered  a  place  to 
Pere  Tabaret.  The  old  fellow  declined. 

"  It  is  not  worth  while,"  replied  he ;  "  for  I  live,  as  I 
have  had  the  honor  to  tell  you,  Rue  St.  Lazare,  two 
steps  from  this." 

''  Till  to-morrow,  then !  "  said  M.  Daburon. 

"  Till  to-morrow,"  replied  Pere  Tabaret ;  and  he  ad- 
ded, "  We  shall  find  him !  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

PERE  TABARET'S  dwelling  was  in  truth,  as  he  said, 
not  four  minutes'  walk  from  the  railway  terminus  of 
St.  Lazare.  He  was  the  owner  of  the  property, — a  fine 
house,  carefully  kept,  and  which  must  have  yielded  a 
fine  revenue,  although  the  rents  on  the  quarter  were  not 
extravagant. 


42  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  house  being  much  too  large  for  the  old  fellow,  he 
occupied  only  the  ground  floor, —  a  suite  of  handsome 
apartments,  well  arranged  and  comfortably  furnished, 
of  which  the  principal  ornament  was  his  collection  of 
books.  He  lived  very  simply  from  taste  as  well  as  habit, 
served  by  an  old  domestic  to  whom  on  great  occasions 
the  portress  lent  a  helping  hand. 

Nothing  in  the  house  gave  the  slightest  indication  of 
the  avocations  of  its  proprietor.  Besides,  even  the  hum- 
blest agent  of  police  would  be  expected  to  possess  a  de- 
gree of  acuteness  for  which  no  one  gave  M.  Tabaret 
credit.  Indeed,  they  mistook  for  incipient  idiocy  his 
continual  absence  of  mind. 

It  is  true  that  all  who  knew  him  remarked  the  singu- 
larity of  his  habits.  His  constant  expeditions  had  given 
to  his  proceedings  an  appearance  at  once  eccentric  and 
mysterious.  Never  was  young  libertine  more  ir- 
regular in  his  habits  than  this  old  man.  He  came  or 
failed  to  come  to  his  meals,  ate  it  mattered  not  what  or 
at  what  hour.  He  went  out  at  every  hour  of  the  day 
and  night,  often  slept  abroad,  and  even  disappeared 
for  entire  weeks  at  a  time.  Then  he  received  the  strang- 
est visitors, — odd  looking  men  of  suspicious  appearance, 
and  fellows  of  ill-favored  and  sinister  aspect. 

This  irregular  way  of  life  had  robbed  the  old  fellow 
of  some  consideration.  Many  believed  they  saw  in  him 
a  shameless  libertine,  who  dispensed  his  revenues  in  dis- 
reputable places  of  amusement.  They  exclaimed,  "  Is 
it  not  a  shame,  a  man  of  that  age  ?  " 

He  was  aware  of  these  reports,  and  laughed  at  them. 
This  did  not,  however,  prevent  many  of  his  acquaint- 
ances from  seeking  his  society  and  paying  court  to  him. 
When  invited  to  dinner,  he  almost  invariably  refused. 

He  saw  but  little  of  his  tenants,  with  one  exception, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  43 

where  he  cultivated  the  greatest  intimacy,  so  great  in- 
deed that  he  was  almost  as  much  at  home  in  his  neigh- 
bor's apartments  as  his  own.  This  exception  was  made 
in  favor  of  a  widow  lady,  who  had  for  more  than  fifteen 
years  occupied  the  third  floor.  She  was  called  Madame 
Gerdy,  and  lived  with  her  son  Noel,  whom  she  wor- 
shipped. 

Noel  Gerdy  was  a  man  thirty-three  years  of  age, 
and  older  in  appearance,  tall  and  well-made,  with  a 
noble  and  intelligent  face,  large  black  eyes,  and  black 
hair  which  curled  naturally.  An  advocate,  he  passed 
for  having  great  talent,  and  greater  industry,  and  had 
already  gained  a  certain  amount  of  notoriety.  An  ob- 
stinate worker,  cold  and  meditative,  devoted  to  his  pro- 
fession, he  affected,  with  some  ostentation,  perhaps,  a 
great  rigidity  of  principle,  and  austerity  of  manners. 

In  Madame  Gerdy's  family,  Pere  Tabaret  almost  be- 
lieved himself  included.  He  looked  upon  himself  as  a 
parent,  and  upon  Noel  as  a  son.  In  spite  of  her  fifty 
years,  he  had  often  thought  of  asking  the  hand  of  this 
charming  widow,  and  was  restrained  less  by  the  fear 
of  a  refusal  than  its  consequences.  To  propose  and  be 
rejected  would  sever  the  existing  relations,  so  pleasur- 
able to  him.  However,  he  had  in  his  will,  which  was 
deposited  with  his  notary,  constituted  this  young  advo- 
cate his  sole  legatee ;  with  the  sole  condition  of  paying 
an  annual  prize  of  two  thousand  francs  to  the  police 
agent  who  during  the  year  had  drawn  to  light  the  most 
obscure  and  mysterious  crime. 

Short  as  was  the  distance  to  his  house,  Pere  Tabaret 
was  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour  in  reaching  it.  On  leav- 
ing the  judge  his  thoughts  reverted  to  the  scene  of  the 
murder ;  and,  so  blinded  was  the  old  fellow  to  external 
objects,  that  the  passers  by  were  obliged  to  push  him 


44  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

aside  in  order  to  pursue  their  way:  thus  his  progress 
was  a  slow  one. 

He  repeated  to  himself  for  the  fiftieth  time  the  words 
of  the  Widow  Lerouge,  as  reported  by  the  milk-maid, 
"  If  I  wished  for  anything  more,  I  could  have  it." 

"  All  is  in  that,"  murmured  he.  "  The  Widow  Le- 
rouge possessed  some  important  secret,  which  persons 
rich  and  powerful  had  the  strongest  motives  for  con- 
cealing. This  secret  was  her  fortune ;  by  means  of  this 
she  made  her  powerful  friends  sing  to  her  tune.  She 
has  either  threatened  or  wearied  them,  and  they  have 
silenced  her  forever !  But  of  what  nature  was  this  se- 
cret, and  how  did  she  become  possessed  of  it?  Might 
she  not  in  her  youth  have  been  a  servant  in  some  great 
family,  where  she  has  seen,  heard,  or  surprised  some- 
thing. What  ?  Evidently  there  is  a  woman  at  the  bot- 
tom. May  she  not  have  assisted  her  mistress  in  some 
intrigue?  What  more  probable?  And  in  that  case  the 
affair  becomes  complicated.  Not  only  must  the  woman 
be  found,  but  the  lover;  for  it  is  the  lover  who  has 
moved  in  this  affair.  It  must  be,  or  I  am  deceived,  a 
noble  personage.  A  man  of  inferior  rank  would  have 
paid  the  assassin.  This  man  has  not  hung  back ;  he 
himself  has  struck,  avoiding  the  mistake  of  an  accom- 
plice. He  is  a  courageous  man,  full  of  audacity  and 
coolness ;  for  the  crime  has  been  admirably  executed. 

"  The  gallant  left  nothing  behind  of  a  nature  to  com- 
promise him  seriously ;  but  for  me,  Gevrol  would  have 
seen  in  the  assassination  the  work  of  a  robber,  and  over- 
looked the  real  motive  for  the  crime !  No,"  continued 
the  good  man,  "  it  must  be  the  issue  of  an  amour.  Time 
will  show." 

Pere  Tabaret  mounted  the  steps  in  front  of  'his  house. 
The  portress,  seated  in  her  loge,  and  chatting  with  her 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  45 

husband,  saw  him  through  the  window  by  the  light  of 
the  lamp  which  hung  over  the  door. 

"  Hold,"  said  the  porter,  "  here  is  the  proprietor  re- 
turned." 

"  So  it  seems,"  returned  the  portress.  "  His  princess 
does  not  want  him  this  evening.  He  looks  troubled 
about  something." 

"  It  is  positively  indecent/'  said  the  porter,  "  for  a 
man  of  his  years  to  act  in  the  manner  he  does.  Oh ! 
he's  got  softening  of  the  brain.  One  of  these  fine  morn- 
ings he  will  find  his  way  to  the  insane  asylum  in  a 
straight  waistcoat." 

"  Look  at  him  now ! "  interrupted  the  portress — 
"  look  at  him  now,  in  the  open  street !  " 

The  old  fellow  had  stopped  at  the  extremity  of  the 
porch.  He  had  taken  off  his  hat,  and,  while  talking 
to  himself,  gesticulated  violently. 

"  No,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  have  not  yet  laid  hold 
of  the  clew ;  but  I  am  near  it.  I  burn ;  but  I  am  not  at 
the  fire  yet." 

Admitted  by  the  portress,  he  passed  on  to  the  door 
of  his  apartments,  of  which  he  rang  the  bell,  forgetting 
that  he  had  his  pass-key  in  his  pocket.  His  housekeeper 
came  and  opened  it. 

"  Hey  day,  monsieur.     Is  it  you,  and  at  this  hour?  " 

"  Hey  day,  madame.  And  what  of  that  ?  "  demanded 
the  old  fellow. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  the  servant,  "  that  it  is  half- 
past  eight  o'clock?  I  thought  you  were  not  coming 
back  this  evening.  Have  you  dined  ?  " 

"  No,  not  yet." 

"  Fortunately  I  have  kept  your  dinner  warm.  You 
can  sit  down  to  table." 

Pere  Tabaret  seated  himself,  and  was  helped  to  soup ; 


46  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

but,  mounting  his  hobby-horse  again,  he  forgot  to  eat, 
and  remained  arrested  by  an  idea,  his  spoon  in  the  air, 

"  He  is  certainly  touched  in  the  head,"  thought  Man- 
nette.  "  Look  at  that  stupid  air.  Who  would  act  in 
such  a  manner  that  was  in  his  senses  ?  " 

She  struck  him  on  the  shoulder,  bawling  in  his  ear, 
as  if  he  were  deaf, — 

"  You  do  not  eat.    Are  you  not  hungry?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  he,  trying  mechanically  to  es- 
cape the  voice  that  sounded  in  his  ears,  "  I  am  very  hun- 
gry ;  for  since  morning  I  have  been  obliged  " — 

He  interrupted  himself,  remaining  with  his  mouth 
open,  his  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy. 

"You  have  been  obliged — ?"  repeated  Mannette. 

"  Thunder !  "  cried  he,  raising  his  clenched  hands  to- 
wards the  ceiling, — "  thunder  of  heaven !  I  have  it 
now." 

His  movement  was  so  violent  and  sudden  that  the 
housekeeper  was  alarmed,  and  retired  to  the  further 
end  of  the  room,  near  the  door. 

"  Yes,"  continued  he,  "  it  is  certain  there  is  a  child !  " 

Mannette  approached  quickly. 

"  An  infant  ?  "  she  asked  in  astonishment. 

"  Ah,  so,"  cried  he  in  a  furious  tone.  "  WThat  are  you 
doing  there?  Has  your  hardihood  come  to  this  that 
you  pick  up  the  words  which  escape  me?  Do  me  the 
favor  to  retire  to  your  kitchen,  and  stay  there  until  I 
call  you." 

"  He  is  going  crazy !  "  thought  Mannette,  as  she  dis- 
appeared very  quickly. 

Pere  Tabaret  returned  to  the  table.  The  soup  was 
completely  cold ;  but  he  swallowed  it  in  large  spoonfuls, 
without  remarking  it. 

"  Stupid !  "  said  he  to  himself.    "  Why  did  I  not  think 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  47 

/ 

of  it  before  ?  Poor  humanity !  I  am  growing  old ;  and 
my  toils  are  less  sharp  than  they  used  to  be.  But  it  is 
clear  as  the  day :  the  circumstances  all  point  to  that  con- 
clusion." 

He  rapped  with  his  spoon  upon  the  table :  the  servant 
reappeared. 

"  The  roast,"  demanded  he,  "  and  leave  me  to  my- 
self." 

"  Yes,"  continued  he,  furiously  carving  a  leg  of 
Presale  mutton, — "  yes,  there  was  an  infant ;  and  here 
is  the  history.  The  Widow  Lerouge,  when  a  young  wo- 
man, is  in  the  service  of  a  great  lady,  immensely  rich. 
Her  husband,  a  sailor,  probably  had  departed  on  a  long 
voyage.  The  lady  had  a  lover— found  herself  enciente. 
She  confided  in  the  Widow  Lerouge,  and,  with  her  as- 
sistance, accomplished  a  clandestine  accouchement" 

He  called  again. 

"  Mannette,  the  dessert,  and  get  out !  " 

Certainly  such  a  master  was  unworthy  of  so  excellent 
a  cook  as  Mannette.  He  would  have  been  puzzled  to 
say  what  he  had  eaten  for  dinner,  or  even  what  he  was 
eating  at  this  moment ;  it  was  a  preserve  of  pears. 

"  But  what,"  murmured  he,  "  has  become  of  the 
child?  Has  it  been  destroyed?  No;  for  the  Widow 
Lerouge,  an  accomplice  in  an  infanticide,  would  be  no 
longer  formidable.  The  child  has  been  preserved,  and 
confided  to  the  care  of  our  widow,  by  whom  it  has  been 
reared.  They  have  been  able  to  take  the  infant  away 
from  her,  but  not  the  proofs  of  its  birth  and  its  ex- 
istence. Here  is  the  opening.  The  father  is  the  man 
of  the  fine  carriage;  the  mother  is  the  lady  who 
came  with  the  handsome  young  man.  Ha!  ha!  I 
can  well  believe  the  dear  old  dame  wanted  for  nothing. 
She  had  a  secret  worth  a  farm  in  Brie.  But  the  old  lady 


48  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

was  extravagant;  her  expenses  and  her  demands  have 
increased  year  by  year.  Poor  humanity!  She  has 
leaned  upon  the  staff  too  heavily,  and  broken  it.  She 
has  threatened.  They  have  been  frightened,  and  said, 
'  Let  there  be  an  end  of  this ! '  But  who  has  charged 
himself  with  the  commission?  The  papa?  No:  he  is 
too  old.  By  jupiter!  the  son, —  the  child  himself!  He 
would  save  his  mother,  the  brave  boy !  He  has  slain  the 
witness  and  burnt  the  proofs !  " 

Mannette  all  this  time,  her  ear  to  the  keyhole,  listened 
with  all  her  soul ;  from  time  to  time  she  gleaned  a  word, 
an  oath,  the  noise  of  a  blow  upon  the  table ;  but  that  was 
all. 

"  For  certain,"  thought  she,  "  his  women  are  running 
in  his  head." 

Her  curiosity  overcame  her  prudence.  Hearing  no 
more,  she  ventured  to  open  the  door  a  little  way.  The 
old  fellow  caught  her  in  the  very  act. 

"  Monsieur  wants  his  coffee  ?  "  stammered  she  tim- 
idly. 

"  Yes,  you  may  bring  it  to  me,"  he  answered. 

He  attempted  to  swallow  his  coffee  at  a  gulp,  but 
scalded  himself  so  severely  that  the  pain  brought  him 
suddenly  from  speculation  to  reality. 
•  "Thunder!"  grumbled  he;  "but  it  is  hot!  Devil 
take  the  case!  it  has  set  me  beside  myself.  They  are 
right  in  the  office,  when  they  say  I  take  too  strong  an 
interest  in  the  investigations.  Who  but  I  should  have, 
by  the  sole  exercise  of  observation  and  reason,  estab- 
lished the  v/hole  history  of  the  assassination  ?  Certainly 
not  Gevrol,  poor  man !  He  must,  if  he  has  any  profes- 
sional feeling,  be  deeply  humiliated.  Shall  I  seek  M. 
Daburon?  No,  not  yet.  I  must  sift  to  the  bottom  all 
the  particulars  and  arrange  my  ideas  systematically  be- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  49 

fore  meeting  him  again.  Upon  the  other  hand,  if  I  sit 
here  alone,  this  history  will  keep  me  in  a  fever  of  specu- 
lation. My  faith!  I  will  call  upon  Madame  Gerdy: 
she  has  been  ailing  for  some  days.  I  will  have  a  chat 
with  Noel,  and  that  will  brighten  me  up  a  little." 

He  got  up  from  the  table,  and  took  his  hat  and  cane. 

"  Monsieur  is  going  out  ?  "  demanded  Mannette. 

"  Yes." 

"  Monsieur  will  not  return  until  late  ?  " 

"  Possibly." 

"  But  monsieur  will  return?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

One  minute  later  Pere  Tabaret  rang  at  his  friend 
Madame  Gerdy's  apartments. 

Madame  Gerdy  lived  in  respectable  style.  She  pos- 
sessed a  competence;  and  her  son's  business,  already 
large,  had  made  it  a  fortune.  She  had  few  acquaint- 
ances, and,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  friends, 
occasionally  invited  to  dinner,  received  no  visitors.  Dur- 
ing the  fifteen  years  that  Pere  Tabaret  came  familiarly 
to  the  house,  he  had  encountered  only  the  curate  of  the 
parish,  an  old  professor,  and  Madame  Gerdy's  brother, 
a  colonel  retired  from  service. 

When  these  three  visitors  called  upon  the  same  even- 
ing, an  event  somewhat  rare,  they  played  at  "  Boston," 
or  made  a  party  at  piquet.  Noel,  however,  seldom  re- 
mained in  the  salon,  but  shut  himself  up  after  dinner 
in  his  study,  and  immersed  himself  in  his  law  papers. 
He  was  supposed  to  work  far  into  the  night.  Often  in 
winter  his  lamp  was  not  extinguished  before  dawn. 

Mother  and  son  absolutely  lived  for  one  another,  as 
all  who  knew  them  took  pleasure  in  repeating. 

They  loved  and  honored  Noel  for  the  care  he  be- 
stowed upon  his  mother, — for  his  more  than  filial  de- 


50  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

votion, — for  the  sacrifices  which  all  supposed  he  made 
in  living  at  his  age  like  an  old  man. 

The  neighbors  were  in  the  habit  of  contrasting  the 
conduct  of  this  exemplary  young  man  with  that  of  Pere 
Tabaret,  the  incorrigible  old  rake,  the  gallant  in  the 
peruke. 

As  for  Madame  Gerdy,  she  saw  nothing  but  her  son 
in  all  the  world.  Her  love  had  actually  taken  the  form 
of  worship.  In  Noel,  she  believed  she  saw  united  all  the 
physical  and  moral  perfections.  To  her  he  seemed  of 
a  superior  order  to  the  rest  of  humanity.  If  he  spoke, 
she  listened  and  was  silent:  his  word  was  a  command, 
his  advice  a  decree  of  Providence.  To  care  for  her  son, 
study  his  tastes,  anticipate  his  wishes,  was  the  sole  aim 
of  her  life.  Noel  was  her  existence. 

She  was  a  mother. 

"Is  Madame  Gerdy  visible?"  demanded  Pere  Tab- 
aret of  the  young  girl  who  opened  the  door ;  and,  with- 
out waiting  for  an  answer,  he  walked  into  the  room  like 
a  man  assured  that  his  presence  cannot  be  inopportune, 
and  ought  to  be  agreeable. 

A  single  lamp  gave  light  to  the  salon,  which  was  not 
in  its  accustomed  order.  The  marble-top  table,  usually 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  was  rolled  into  a  corner. 
Madame  Gerdy's  large  arm-chair  was  near  the  window : 
a  newspaper,  all  crumpled,  lay  before  it  on  the  carpet. 

The  old  amateur  took  in  the  whole  at  a  glance. 

"  Has  any  accident  occurred  ?  "  demanded  he  of  the 
young  girl. 

"  Do  not  speak  to  me,  monsieur :  we  have  had  such  a 
fright !  oh,t  what  a  fright !  " 

"  What  was  it  ?  speak  quickly !  " 

"  You  know  that  madame  has  been  ailing  for  more 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  51 

than  a  month.  She  has  eaten  I  may  say  almost  nothing ; 
this  morning,  even,  she  said  to  me  " — 

"Well,  well!  but  this  evening?" 

"  After  dinner  madame  came  into  the  salon  as  usual. 
She  sat  down  and  took  up  one  of  M.  Noel's  newspapers. 
Scarcely  had  she  begun  to  read,  when  she  uttered  a 
great  cry, — oh,  a  terrible  cry,  monsieur !  We  ran  into 
the  salon,  and  found  madame  where  she  had  fallen  upon 
the  carpet  as  if  dead.  M.  Noel  raised  her  in  his  arms, 
and  carried  her  into  her  chamber.  I  wanted  to  fetch  a 
doctor ;  but  he  said  there  was  no  need :  he  knew  what 
was  the  matter  with  her." 

"  And  how  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  She  has  come  to  her  senses ;  that  is  to  say ;  I  suppose 
so ;  for  M.  Noel  made  me  leave  the  room.  All  that  I  do 
know  is,  that  she  kept  talking  all  the  time,  and  talking 
very  loudly  too;  for  I  heard  her  say, — Ah,  monsieur, 
but  it  is  all  so  very  strange !  " 

"  What  is  strange  ?  " 

"  What  I  heard  Madame  Gerdy  say  to  M.  Noel. 

"  Ah  ha !  my  belle !  "  sneered  Pere  Tabaret ;  "  so  you 
listen  at  key-holes,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur !  no  indeed,  I  swear  to  you ;  but  ma- 
dame cried  out  like  one  lost.  She  said," — 

"  My  girl,"  said  Pere  Tabaret,  "  one  never  hears  any 
thing  good  through  key-holes.  Mannette  can  tell  you 
as  much." 

The  poor  girl,  thoroughly  confused,  sought  to  excuse 
herself.  , 

"  Enough,  enough !  "  said  the  good  man.  "  Return  to 
your  work :  you  need  not  disturb  M.  Noel ;  I  can  wait 
for  him  very  well  here. 

And,  satisfied  with  the  reproof  he  had  administered, 


52  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

he  picked  up  the  newspaper,  and  installed  himself  in  the 
chimney-corner,  placing  the  lamp  so  as  to  read  with 
ease. 

A  minute  had  scarcely  elapsed  when  he  in  his  turn 
bounded  in  his  chair,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  instinctive 
terror  and  surprise. 

These  were  the  first  words  that  met  his  eye. 

"  A  horrible  crime  has  plunged  in  grief  and  conster- 
nation the  little  village  of  La  Jonchere.  A  poor  widow, 
named  Lerouge,  who  enjoyed  the  general  esteem  and 
love  of  the  community,  has  been  assassinated  in  her  own 
house.  The  officers  of  the  law  made  the  usual 
preliminary  investigations;  and,  from  the  informa- 
tion we  have  been  able  to  gather,  we  believe  justice 
is  already  on  the  track  of  the  authors  of  this  das- 
tardly crime." 

"  Thunder !  "  cried  Pere  Tabaret  to  himself,  "  can  it 
be  that  Madame  Gerdy  ?  " — 

The  idea  was  but  a  gleam  of  lightning,  dismissed  as 
soon  as  formed;  he  fell  back  into  the  arm-chair,  and, 
raising  his  shoulders,  murmured, — 

"  This  affair  of  Jonchere  is  driving  me  out  of  my 
senses !  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  this  infernal  Widow 
Lerouge.  I  see  her  now  in  every  thing." 

In  the  mean  while,  an  uncontrollable  curiosity  made 
him  peruse  the  entire  newspaper.  He  found  nothing, 
with  the  exception  of  these  lines,  to  justify  or  explain 
even  the  slightest  emotion. 

"  It  is  an  extremely  singular  coincidence,  at  the  same 
time,"  thought  the  incorrigible  police  agent.  Then,  re- 
marking that  the  newspaper  was  slightly  torn  at  the 
lower  part,  and  crushed,  as  if  by  a  convulsive  grasp,  he 
repeated, — 

"  It  is  strange !  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  53 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  Madame  Gerdy's  room 
opened,  and  Noel  appeared  on  the  threshold. 

Without  doubt  the  accident  to  his  mother  had  greatly 
excited  him ;  for  he  was  very  pale  and  his  countenance, 
ordinarily  so  calm,  wore  an  expression  of  profound  sor- 
row. He  appeared  surprised  to  see  Pere  Tabaret. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Noel !  "  cried  the  old  fellow.  "  Calm 
my  inquietude.  How  is  your  mother?  " 

"  Madame  Gerdy  is  as  well  as  can  be  expected." 

"  Madame  Gerdy !  "  repeated  the  old  fellow  with  an 
air  of  astonishment ;  but  he  continued,  "  It  is  plain  you 
have  been  seriously  alarmed." 

"  In  truth,"  replied  the  advocate,  seating  himself, 
"  I  have  experienced  a  rude  shock." 

Noel  was  making  visibly  the  greatest  efforts  to  appear 
calm,  to  listen  to  the  old  fellow,  and  to  answer  him. 
Pere  Tabaret,  as  much  disquieted  on  his  side,  perceived 
nothing. 

"  At  least,  my  dear  boy,"  said  he,  "  tell  me  how  this 
happened  ?  " 

The  young  man  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  consult- 
ing with  himself.  No  doubt  he  was  unprepared  for 
this  point  blank  question,  and  knew  not  what  answer  to 
make ;  at  last  he  replied, — 

"  Madame  Gerdy  has  suffered  a  severe  shock  in  learn- 
ing from  a  paragraph  in  this  newspaper  that  a  woman 
in  whom  she  takes  a  strong  interest  has  been  assassina- 
ted." 

"  Ah !  "  cried  Pere  Tabaret. 

The  old  fellow  was  in  a  fever  of  embarrassment.  He 
wanted  to  question  Noel,  but  was  restrained  by  the  fear 
of  revealing  the  secret  of  his  association  with  the  police. 
Indeed  he  had  almost  betrayed  himself  by  the  eager- 
ness with  which  he  exclaimed, — 


54  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  What !  your  mother  knew  the  Widow  Lerouge  ?  " 

By  an  effort  he  restrained  himself,  and  with  difficulty 
dissembled  his  satisfaction ;  for  he  was  delighted  to  find 
himself  so  unexpectedly  on  the  trace  of  the  antecedents 
of  the  victim  of  La  Jonchere. 

"  She  was,"  continued  Noel,  "  the  slave  of  Madame 
Gerdy,  devoted  to  her  body  and  soul !  She  would  have 
thrown  herself  in  the  fire  at  a  sign  from  her  hand." 

"  Then  you,  my  dear  friend,  you  knew  this  honest 
woman  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  seen  her  for  a  long  time,"  replied  Noel ; 
"  but  I  knew  her  well ;  I  ought  even  to  say  I  loved  her 
tenderly.  She  was  my  nurse." 

"  She,  this  woman  ?  "  stammered  Pere  Tabaret. 

This  time  he  was  thunderstruck.  The  Widow  Le- 
rouge Noel's  nurse?  He  was  playing  with  fortune. 
Providence  had  evidently  chosen  him  for  its  instrument, 
and  was  leading  him  by  the  hand.  He  was  about  to 
obtain  all  the  information,  in  one  half-hour,  which  he 
had  almost  despaired  of  ever  procuring.  He  remained 
seated  before  Noel  stunned  and  speechless.  At  length 
he  remembered,  that,  unless  he  would  compromise  him- 
self, he  must  break  the  silence. 

"  It  is  a  great  misfortune,"  murmured  he. 

"  For  Madame  Gerdy,  I  know  nothing  of  that ;  but, 
for  me,  it  is  an  overwhelming  misfortune !  I  am  struck 
to  the  heart  by  the  blow  which  has  slain  this  poor  wo- 
man. Her  death,  M.  Tabaret,  has  annihilated  my 
dreams  of  the  future,  and  overthrown  my  most  cher- 
ished hopes.  I  have  to  perform  a  solemn  duty, — to 
avenge  myself  for  cruel  outrages.  Her  death  breaks 
the  weapon  in  my  hands,  and  reduces  me  to  despair,  to 
impotence.  Alas !  I  am  indeed  unfortunate." 

"  You  unfortunate  ?  "  cried  Pere  Tabaret,  singularly 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  55 

affected  by  the  sadness  of  his  dear  Noel.  "  In  heaven's 
name,  what  has  happened  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  suffer,"  murmured  the  advocate,  "  not  only  from 
injustice  that  can  never  be  repaired,  but  from  dread  of 
calumny  that  cannot  be  repudiated.  I  am  defenceless. 
I  shall  be  accused  of  inventing  falsehood,  of  being  an 
ambitious  intriguer,  having  no  regard  for  truth,  no 
scruples  of  conscience." 

Pere  Tabaret  was  puzzled.  What  connection  could 
possibly  exist  between  Noel's  honor  and  the  assassina- 
tion at  Jonchere  ?  His  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  A  thous- 
and troubled  and  confused  ideas  jostled  one  another  in 
inextricable  confusion. 

"  Come,  come,  Noel,"  said  he,  "  collect  yourself.  Cal- 
umny threatens  you?  Nonsense!  Have  you  not 
friends?  Am  I  not  here?  Have  confidence  in  me. 
It  will  be  strange,  indeed,  if  between  us  two — " 

The  advocate  started  to  his  feet,  inflamed  by  a  sudden 
resolution. 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  he,  "  you  shall  know  the  secret 
that  is  stifling  me.  The  role  I  have  imposed  upon  my- 
self irritates  and  confounds  me.  I  have  need  of  a  friend 
to  console,  a  counsellor  to  advise  me ;  for  one  is  a  bad 
judge  of  his  own  cause :  and  this  crime  has  plunged  me 
into  an  abyss  of  hesitation." 

"  You  know,"  replied  Pere  Tabaret,  "  that  I  regard 
you  as  a  son.  Command  me,  my  dear  Noel,  as  if  I  were 
indeed  your  father." 

"  Know  then,"  commenced  the  advocate, — "  but  no, 
not  here:  what  I  have  to  say  must  not  be  overheard. 
Let  us  go  into  my  study." 


56       THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WHEN  Noel  and  Pere  Tabaret  were  seated  face  to 
face  in  the  small  apartment  devoted  to  Noel's  business, 
and  the  door  had  been  carefully  locked,  the  old  fellow 
began  to  feel  uneasy. 

"  If  your  mother  should  require  any  thing,"  said  he. 

"  If  Madame  Gerdy  rings,"  replied  the  young  man, 
"  the  servant  will  attend  to  her  wants." 

This  indifference,  this  coldness,  confounded  Pere 
Tabaret,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  the  interchange  of 
affection  between  mother  and  son. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Noel,"  said  he,  "  calm  yourself. 
Do  not  allow  yourself  to  be  overcome  by  a  feeling  of  ir- 
ritation. You  have,  I  see,  some  little  pique  against  your 
mother,  which  will  be  forgotten  to-morrow.  Don't 
speak  of  her  in  this  icy  tone ;  but  tell  me  what  you  mean 
by  calling  her  Madame  Gerdy  ?  " 

"  What  I  mean  ?  "  replied  the  advocate  in  a  hollow 
tone, — "  what  I  mean  ?  " 

He  quitted  his  arm-chair,  took  several  strides  across 
the  floor  of  the  little  chamber,  returned  to  his  place 
near  the  old  fellow,  and  said, — 

"  Because,  M.  Tabaret,  Madame  Gerdy  is  not  my 
mother ! " 

This  sentence  fell  like  a  blow  of  a  heavy  club  on  the 
head  of  the  amateur :  he  was  paralyzed. 

"  Oh !  "  said  he,  in  the  tone  one  assumes  when  reject- 
ing an  absurd  proposition,  "  do  you  dream  of  what  you 
say,  Noel  ?  Is  it  credible  ?  Is  it  probable  ?  " 

"  It  is  improbable,"  replied  Noel  with  peculiar  em- 
phasis :  "  it  is  incredible,  if  you  will ;  but  it  is  true.  For 
thirty-three  years,  ever  since  my  birth,  this  woman  has 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  57 

played  a  most  marvellous  and  unworthy  comedy,  to  en- 
noble and  enrich  her  son, — for  she  has  a  son, — and  to 
despoil,  to  plunder  me !  " 

"  My  friend," — continued  Pere  Tabaret,  who  in  the 
background  of  the  picture  presented  by  this  singular 
revelation  saw  again  the  phantom  of  the  murdered 
Widow  Lerouge. 

But  Noel  heard  not,  and  seemed  hardly  in  a  state  to 
hear.  The  young  man,  usually  so  cold,  so  self-con- 
tained, could  not  control  his  anger.  At  the  sound  of 
his  own  voice,  he  became  animated,  as  a  good  horse 
might  at  the  jingling  of  his  harness. 

"  Was  ever  man,"  continued  he,  "  more  cruelly  de- 
ceived, more  miserably  duped,  than  I  have  been, — I  who 
have  so  loved  this  woman?  How  I  have  sought  for 
evidences  of  affection  to  lavish  on  her,  who  was  sacri- 
ficing me  to  her  own  selfish  ambition  for  her  son !  How 
she  has  laughed  at  me!  Her  infamy  dates  from  the 
moment  when  for  the  first  time  she  took  me  on  her 
knees ;  and,  until  these  few  days  past,  she  has  sustained 
without  faltering  her  execrable  role:  her  love  for  me, 
hypocrisy !  her  devotion  falsehood !  her  caresses  lies. 
And  how  I  have  worshipped  her !  Ah !  why  can  I  not 
recall  the  innocent  kisses  of  my  childhood,  the  devotion 
of  my  youth,  the  sacrifices  of  my  manhood,  given  in  ex- 
change for  her  Judas'  kisses  ?  And  for  what  was  all  this 
heroism  of  deception,  this  caution,  this  duplicity?  To 
betray  me,  more  securely  to  despoil  me;  to  rob  me;  to 
give  to  her  illegitimate  offspring  all  that  lawfully  apper- 
tained to  me, — a  noble  name,  a  princely  inheritance !  " 

"  We  are  burning !  "  thought  Pere  Tabaret,  who  was 
fast  relapsing  into  the  collaborates  of  M.  Gevrol; 
then  aloud  he  said, — 

"  This  is  terribly  serious,  my  dear  Noel.    To  credit 


58  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

what  you  have  said,  we  must  believe  Madame  Gerdy 
possessed  of  an  amount  of  audacity  and  ability  rarely 
united  in  one  individual.  She  must  have  been  assisted, 
advised,  compelled  perhaps.  Who  have  been  her  ac- 
complices? She  could  never  have  accomplished  this 
herself;  her  .husband  perhaps  himself?" 

"  Her  husband !  "  interrupted  Noel,  with  a  bitter 
laugh.  "  Ah !  you  have  believed  her  a  widow.  Pshaw ! 
She  never  had  a  husband.  Pere  Gerdy  never  had  an 
existence.  I  am  illegitimate,  my  dear  Tabaret,  thrice 
base  born, — Noel,  son  of  a  femme  convert,  and  an  un- 
known father !  " 

"  Ah !  "  cried  the  old  fellow ;  "  this  then  is  the  occasion 
of  your  marriage  with  Mademoiselle  Levernois  being 
delayed  these  four  years  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  that  was  the  cause.  And  what  mis- 
fortunes might  have  been  averted  by  this  marriage  with 
a  young  girl  whom  I  love !  Had  I  wedded  her  before 
making  this  abominable  discovery,  I  should  not  have 
wasted  all  my  affection  on  her  that  I  have  called  my 
mother.  When  she  told  me  I  was  not  the  son  of  this  im- 
aginary individual,  this  M.  Gerdy,  she  wept,  she  ac- 
cused herself,  she  seemed  ready  to  die  of  grief  and 
shame;  and  I,  poor  fool!  dry  her  tears,  excuse  her  to 
her  own  eyes,  console  her  with  my  caresses !  No,  she 
had  no  husband :  such  women  have  no  husbands.  She 
was  the  Count  de  Commarin's  mistress;  and,  on  the 
day  when  he  quitted  her,  he  threw  to  her  three  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  the  price  of  her  degradation ! " 

Noel  would  have  continued  to  pour  forth  these  fur- 
ious denunciations;  but  his  volubility  was  arrested  by 
the  old  fellow.  He  felt  he  was  coming  to  a  history  in  all 
points  similar  to  that  which  he  had  imagined ;  and  his 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  59 

impatience  to  gratify  his  vanity,  in  discovering  how 
nearly  he  had  divined  the  facts,  made  him  almost  for- 
get to  express  any  sympathy  for  his  friend's  misfor- 
tunes. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  he,  "  let  us  not  digress.  You 
ask  me  for  advice;  and  I  am  perhaps  the  best  adviser 
you  could  have  chosen.  Come,  then,  to  the  point.  How 
have  you  learned  this?  Have  you  proofs  of  what  you 
state  ?  where  are  they  ?  " 

The  decided  tone  of  the  old  fellow  would  no  doubt 
have  awakened  Noel's  attention  at  any  other  time ;  but 
he  was  off  his  guard :  he  had  not  leisure  to  stop  or  to  re- 
flect. He  answered  promptly, — 

"  I  have  known  the  truth  for  three  weeks.  I  made 
the  discovery  by  chance.  I  have  important  moral  proofs ; 
but  they  are  mere  presumptive  evidence.  A  word  from 
the  Widow  Lerouge,  one  single  word,  would  have  ren- 
dered them  decisive.  This  word,  she  cannot  pronounce, 
since  they  have  killed  her ;  but  she  has  said  it  to  me.  Of 
what  avail?  Now,  Madame  Gerdy  will  deny  all.  I 
know  her ;  with  her  head  on  the  block,  she  will  deny  it. 
My  father  doubtless  will  turn  against  me.  I  am  myself 
morally  convinced.  I  was  strong  in  evidence ;  but  this 
crime  renders  vain  my  certainty,  utterly  destroys  my 
proofs !  " 

"  Explain  it  all  to  me,"  replied  Pere  Tabaret  after  a 
pause, — "  all  you  understand.  We,  the  old,  are  some- 
times able  to  give  good  advice ;  and  I  am  willing  to  ad- 
vise you." 

"  Three  weeks  ago,"  commenced  Noel,  "searching 
for  some  old  documents,  I  opened  Madame  Gerdy 's  sec- 
retary. Accidentally  I  overturned  a  drawer:  some 
papers  tumbled  out,  amongst  which  were  a  packet  of 


60  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

letters,  which  fell  right  into  my  hand.  A  mechanical 
impulse,  which  I  cannot  explain,  prompted  me  to  untie 
the  string,  and  read  one  of  the  letters." 

"  You  did  wrong,"  remarked  Pere  Tabaret. 

"  Be  it  so.  I  read.  At  the  end  of  ten  lines,  I  was 
convinced  that  this  correspondence  was  my  father's, 
whose  name,  Madame  Gerdy,  in  spite  of  my  prayers, 
had  always  hidden  from  me.  You  can  understand  my 
emotion.  I  carried  off  the  packet,  shut  myself  up  in  this 
room,  and  devoured  the  letters  from  beginning  to  end." 

"  And  you  have  been  cruelly  punished,  my  poor 
boy!" 

"  It  is  true ;  but  who  in  my  position  could  have  re- 
sisted ?  These  letters  have  given  me  pain ;  but  they  af- 
ford the  proof  of  what  I  have  told  you." 

"  And  you  have  preserved  the  letters  ?  " 

"  I  have  them  here ;  and,  that  you  may  understand 
the  case  in  which  I  have  requested  your  advice,  I  am 
going  to  read  them  to  you." 

The  advocate  opened  one  of  the  drawers  of  his  bu- 
reau, pressed  an  imperceptible  spring,  and  a  hidden  re- 
ceptacle appeared  in  the  back  of  the  upper  tablette,  from 
which  he  drew  out  a  bundle  of  letters. 

"  You  understand,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  that  I  shall 
spare  you  all  insignificant  details,  which,  however,  have 
their  own  weight.  I  am  only  going  to  take  up  the  im- 
portant facts,  which  treat  directly  of  the  affair." 

Pere  Tabaret  nestled  in  his  arm-chair,  burning  with 
the  fever  of  curiosity,  his  face  expressing  the  most  ar- 
dent attention. 

After  a  selection,  which  he  was  some  time  in  making, 
the  advocate  opened  a  letter,  and  commenced  his  read- 
ing in  a  voice  which  trembled,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to 
render  it  calm. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  61 

"  '  MY  VALERIE,  WELL  BELOVED, — ' 

"  Valerie,"  said  he,  "  you  understand    is    Madame 
Gerdy." 

"  I  know,  I  know.    Do  not  interrupt  yourself." 
Noel  continued. 

'  My  Valerie,  well  beloved. 

'  This  is  a  happy  day.  This  morning  I  received  your 
welcome  letter.  I  have  covered  it  with  kisses.  I  have 
read  it  a  hundred  times ;  and  now  it  has  gone  to  join  the 
others  here  upon  my  heart.  This  letter  fills  me  with 
transport.  You  were  not  deceived.  Heaven  has  blessed 
our  loves ;  and  we  shall  have  a  son. 

'  I  shall  have  a  son,  the  living  image  of  my  adored 
Valerie!  Oh!  why  are  we  parted  at  a  time  like  this? 
Why  have  I  not  the  wings  of  a  bird,  that  I  might  fly 
to  thee,  beloved  of  my  soul  and  mingle  our  tears  of  joy 
and  thankfulness  ?  Ah !  never  as  at  this  moment  have  I 
cursed  the  fatal  union  imposed  upon  me  by  an  inexor- 
able family,  whose  cruelty  my  prayers  and  tears  could 
not  soften.  I  cannot  restrain  myself  from  hating  this 
woman  who  bears  in  spite  of  me  my  name,  innocent  vic- 
tim though  she  is  of  the  barbarity  of  our  parents.  And, 
to  fill  up  the  measure  of  sorrow,  she  is  also  soon  to  make 
me  a  father.  What  words  can  paint  my  sorrow  when  I 
compare  the  fortunes  of  these  two  children? 

1 '  One,  son  of  the  object  of  my  tenderest  love,  shall 
have  neither  father,  family,  nor  name,  since  an  inexor- 
able law  forbids  me  to  legitimatize  him.  While  the 
other,  the  son  of  my  detested  spouse,  by  the  sole  fact  of 
his  birth  shall  be  rich,  honored,  noble,  surrounded  by 
devotion  and  homage,  with  a  great  position  in  the  world. 
I  cannot  endure  the  thought  of  this  terrible  injustice! 
Who  can  imagine  a  way  to  repair  it  ?  I  cannot  tell  now ; 
but  be  sure  I  shall  find  a  way.  It  is  to  him,  the  most 
desired,  most  cherished,  most  beloved,  that  the  best  for- 
tune should  come;  and  come  to  him  it  shall:  I  swear 
it.' " 


62  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  From  whence  is  that  letter  dated  ?  "  demanded  Pere 
Tabaret. 

"  See,"  replied  Noel. 

He  handed  the  letter  to  the  old  fellow,  who  read, — 

"  Venice,  December,  1828." 

"  You  perceive,"  said  the  advocate,  "  all  the  impor- 
tance of  this  first  letter:  it  is  a  brief  statement  of  the 
facts.  My  father,  married  in  spite  of  himself,  adores  his 
mistress  and  detests  his  wife.  Nor  are  his  feelings  to- 
wards the  infants  at  all  concealed.  In  fact,  we  can 
plainly  perceive,  peeping  forth,  the  germ  of  the  idea 
which  afterwards  he  matured  and  carried  into  execu- 
tion, in  defiance  of  all  law  human  or  divine !  " 

He  was  gradually  falling  into  his  professional  man- 
ner, as  if  pleading  the  cause  before  the  tribunals.  Pere 
Tabaret  again  interrupted  him. 

"  There  is  no  explanation  necessary ;  the  letter  is  ex- 
plicit enough.  I  am  not  an  adept  in  such  matters  as  a 
grand  juror;  but  I  understand  admirably  so  far." 

"  I  pass  several  letters,"  continued  Noel,  "  and  I 
come  to  this  one  of  Jan.  23,  1829.  It  is  very  long,  and 
filled  with  matters  altogether  foreign  to  the  subject 
which  now  interests  us.  However,  I  find  therein  two 
passages,  which  attest  the  slow  but  steady  and  deter- 
minate growth  of  the  idea  suggested  in  the  first  letter. 

" '  The  destinies,  more  powerful  than  my  will,  chain 
me  here;  but  my  soul  is  ever  near  to  thee,  my  adored 
Valerie!  Without  ceasing,  my  thoughts  rest  upon  the 
unspeakable  happiness  in  store  for  us.' 

"  I  skip,"  said  Noel,  "  several  pages  of  passionate 
rhapsody,  to  stop  at  these  lines  at  the  end. 

"  '  My  aversion  to  the  countess  increases  daily.  Un- 
fortunate woman !  I  hate  and  at  the  same  time  pity  her. 
She  seems  to  divine  the  occasion  of  my  sadness,  my 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  63 

coldness.  By  her  timid  submission  and  unalterable 
sweetness,  she  seems  to  seek  pardon  for  her  share  in 
our  unhappy  union.  Sacrificed  creature !  She  also  may 
have  given  her  heart  to  another,  before  being  fettered 
to  a  husband  who  can  never  look  upon  her  with  a  hus- 
band's love.  Your  good  heart  will  pardon  me  this  pity.' 

"  That  countess  was  my  mother,"  cried  the  advocate 
in  a  trembling  voice.  "  And  he  demands  pardon  fot 
the  pity  she  inspires !  Poor  lady !  " 

He  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  as  if  forcing  back 
his  tears,  and  added  in  a  low  tone, — 

"  She  is  dead !  " 

In  spite  of  his  impatience,  Pere  Tabaret  dared  not 
utter  a  word.  He  resented  keenly  the  profound  sorrow 
of  his  youthful  and  respected  friend.  After  a  silence, 
which  almost  maddened  the  old  fellow,  Noel  raised 
his  head,  and  returned  to  the  letters. 

"  All  the  letters  which  follow,"  said  he,  "  carry  traces 
of  the  preoccupation  of  my  father's  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject of  his  illegitimate  son.  I  lay  them,  however,  aside, 
and  take  up  this  written  from  Rome,  March  5,  1829." 

" '  My  son, — our  son,  my  most  constant,  my  only 
care, — how  to  secure  for  him  the  position  in  the  future 
of  which  I  dream  ?  The  nobles  of  former  days  had  not 
these  vulgar  obstacles  to  their  wishes  to  contend  with. 
In  old  time,  a  word  from  the  king  would  have  ennobled 
my  son,  and  given  him  a  place  in  the  world.  To-day, 
the  king  who  governs  with  difficulty  his  disaffected 
subjects,  can  do  less  than  nothing.  Nobility  has  lost  its 
rights,  and  the  lords  of  France  are  as  powerless  to  trans- 
gress the  laws  as  the  meanest  of  their  vassals/ 

"  Lower  down  I  find, — 

"  '  My  heart  loves  to  picture  to  itself  the  form  and 
features  of  our  son.  He  will  have  the  soul,  the  mind, 


64  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

the  beauty,  all  the  fascinations  of  his  mother.  He  will 
inherit  from  his  father  the  pride,  the  valor,  the  senti- 
ments of  his  noble  and  ancient  race.  What  will  be  the 
other?  I  tremble  to  think  of  it/ 

"  The  monster !  that  is  I !  "  cried  the  advocate  with 
intense  rage.  " '  Whilst  the  other — '  but  let  us  leave 
this  part  of  the  subject,  these  preliminaries  to  an  out- 
rageous action.  I  only  desire  by  these  to  show  the  ab- 
beration  of  my  father's  reason  under  the  influence  of  his 
passion.  We  shall  soon  be  at  the  end." 

Pere  Tabaret  was  astonished  at  the  strength  of  this 
passion,  long  since  burnt  out,  of  which  Noel  was  rak- 
ing up  the  dead  ashes.  Perhaps  he  felt  all  the  more 
keenly  the  force  of  those  passionate  expressions  of  de- 
votion, because  they  reminded  him  of  his  own  lost 
youth.  He  understood  how  irresistible  must  have  been 
the  force  of  such  a  love;  and  he  trembled  to  speculate 
as  to  the  result. 

"  Here,"  said  Noel,  "  is  another ;  not  one  of  those  in- 
terminable epistles  from  which  I  have  read  you  frag- 
ments, but  a  simple  billet.  It  is  dated  from  Venice  at 
the  beginning  of  May ;  it  is  short  and  decisive. 

"  '  DEAR  VALERIE, — 

'  Thy  response  is  more  favorable  than  I  dared  to 
hope  for.  The  project  I  have  conceived  is  now  prac- 
ticable. I  begin  to  feel  the  approach  of  calmness  and 
security.  Your  son  shall  bear  my  name.  I  shall  not 
be  obliged  to  separate  myself  from  him.  He  shall  be 
reared  near  me,  in  my  house,  under  my  eyes,  on  my 
knees,  in  my  arms.  Shall  I  have  strength  to  bear  this 
excess  of  happiness? 

'  I  set  out  to-morrow  for  Naples,  from  whence  I 
shall  write  to  you  at  length ;  although,  whatever  may 
happen,  though  I  should  sacrifice  the  important  inter- 
ests confided  to  me,  I  shall  be  in  Paris  at  the  solemn 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  65 

hour.    My  presence  will  double  your  courage ;  my  love 
shall  diminish  thy  sufferings.'  " 

"  Pardon  me  for  interrupting  you,  Noel,"  said  Pere 
Tabaret,  "  do  you  know  what  grave  affairs  detained 
your  father  abroad  ?  " 

"  My  father,  my  old  friend,"  replied  the  advocate, 
"  was,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  one  of  the  friends,  one  of 
the  confidants,  of  Charles  X. ;  and  he  had  been  charged 
by  him  with  a  secret  mission  to  Italy.  My  father  is  the 
Count  Rheteau  de  Commarin." 

"  Whew  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  fellow ;  and  between  his 
teeth,  the  better  to  engrave  the  name  upon  his  memory, 
he  repeated  several  times,  "  Rheteau  de  Commarin." 

Noel  held  his  peace.  Having  controlled  his  resent- 
ment, he  seemed  buried  in  reflection,  as  if  seeking  the 
means  of  executing  his  unalterable  determination  to  re- 
pair the  wrong  he  had  sustained. 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  month  of  May,"  continued  he, 
"  my  father  writes  again,  this  time  from  Naples.  Does 
it  not  appear  incredible  that  a  man  of  prudence,  sense, 
a  dignified  diplomatist,  a  gentleman,  should  dare,  even 
in  the  eagerness  of  insensate  passion,  to  confide  to  paper 
this  most  monstrous  project?  Listen! 

"  '  MY  ADORED, — 

" '  Germain,  my  faithful  valet  de  chambre,  will  hand 
you  this  letter.  I  have  despatched  him  to  Normandy, 
charged  with  a  commission  of  the  most  delicate  nature. 
He  is  one  of  those  servitors  who  may  be  trusted  im- 
plicitly. 

" '  The  time  has  come  when  you  must  learn  the  na- 
ture of  my  project  touching  our  son.  In  three  weeks, 
at  the  latest  I  shall  be  in  Paris. 

"  '  Here  is  what  I  have  resolved. 

" '  The  two  infants  will  be  entrusted  to  two  nurses 


66  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

of  Normandy,  where  my  estates  are  situated.  One  of 
these  women,  selected  and  instructed  by  Germain,  will 
be  in  our  interests ;  to  her  charge,  my  Valerie,  our  child 
is  to  be  confided.  These  two  women  shall  leave  Paris 
the  same  day,  Germain  accompanying  her  who  has  the 
son  of  the  countess. 

An  accident,  arranged  in  advance,  will  compel 
these  two  women  to  pass  one  night  on  the  road.  An- 
other chance,  brought  about  by  Germain,  will  force 
them  to  sleep  in  the  same  inn, — in  the  same  chamber ! 

: '  During  the  night,  the  nurse  entrusted  with  your 
child  will  change  the  infants  in  their  cradles. 

' '  I  have  foreseen  and  arranged  every  thing,  even 
as  I  now  explain  it  to  you.  Every  precaution  has  been 
taken  to  prevent  our  secret  from  escaping.  Germain  is 
charged  to  procure,  while  in  Paris,  a  cradle  and  cloth- 
ing for  your  infant  precisely  similar  to  that  of  the  coun- 
tess's. Assist  him  with  your  advice. 

'  Your  maternal  heart,  sweet  Valerie,  may  bleed  at 
thought  of  being  deprived  of  your  infant.  Console  your- 
self for  the  loss  of  his  innocent  caresses,  by  dreaming 
of  the  station  secured  to  him  by  your  sacrifice.  What 
excess  of  maternal  tenderness  can  serve  him  as  power- 
fully as  this  separation  ?  As  to  the  other,  I  know  your 
tenderness  of  heart.  You  will  love  him  for  his  father's 
sake;  and  the  affection  you  bestow  on  him  will  prove 
your  devotion  to  me.  And  he  will  have  nothing  to  com- 
plain of.  Knowing  nothing,  he  shall  have  nothing  to 
regret ;  and  all  that  money  and  influence  can  secure,  in 
his  position,  he  shall  have. 

"  '  Do  not  argue  with  me  that  this  attempt  is  crimi- 
nal. No,  my  well  beloved,  no.  The  success  of  our  plan 
depends  upon  so  many  coincidences,  independent  of  our 
will,  that  should  they  unite,  we  may  assure  ourselves 
the  hand  of  Providence  favors  our  design.  If  success 
crowns  our  wishes,  it  will  be  because  heaven  has  decreed 
it. 

I  have  hope! 


«  i 


"  Just  what  I  thought,"  murmured  Pere  Tabaret. 

"  And  the  wretched  man,"  cried  Noel,  "  dares  to  in- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  67 

voke  the  aid  of  Providence !  He  would  make  heaven  his 
accomplice ! " 

"  But  your  mother,"  demanded  the  old  fellow, — 
"  pardon,  I  would  say  Madame  Gerdy, — how  did  she 
receive  this  proposition  ?  " 

"  She  would  appear  to  have  rejected  it,  at  first,  for 
here  are  twenty  pages  of  eloquent  persuasion  from  the 
count,  urging  her  to  agree  to  it.  Oh,  this  woman !  " 

"  My  son,"  said  Pere  Tabaret,  softly,  "  let  us  not  be 
unjust.  Why  direct  all  your  resentment  against  Ma- 
dame Gerdy  ?  To  me,  the  count  seems  far  more  deserv- 
ing of  your  anger." 

"  True,"  interrupted  Noel,  with  a  certain  degree  of 
violence, — "  true,  the  count  is  culpable.  He  is  the  au- 
thor of  an  infamous  conspiracy ;  yet  I  am  not  inspired 
by  a  sense  of  hatred  against  him.  He  has  committed  a 
crime,  but  has  passion  to  excuse  it.  Moreover,  he  has 
not  deceived  me  every  hour  of  my  life,  by  enacting  a 
lie,  as  this  miserable  woman  has,  for  thirty  years.  And, 
more  than  all,  his  punishment  has  been  so  cruel,  that  I 
can  even  now  pardon  the  injury  he  has  done  me,  and 
weep  for  the  suffering  it  has  entailed." 

"  Ah !  he  has  been  punished  ?  "  interrogated  the  old 
fellow. 

"  Yes,  fearfully ;  how  you  shall  learn.  But  allow  me 
to  continue.  Towards  the  end  of  May,  or  more  prob- 
ably, during  the  first  days  of  June,  the  count  must  have 
arrived  in  Paris ;  for  the  correspondence  ceases.  It 
would  seem,  that,  after  his  meeting  with  Madame 
Gerdy,  the  final  arrangements  of  the  conspiracy  were 
delayed  by  some  obstacle.  Here  is  a  billet,  relieving  all 
uncertainty  on  the  subject.  On  the  day  it  was  written, 
the  count  was  on  service  at  the  Tuileries,  and  unable  to 
leave  his  post.  He  has  written  it  even  in  the  king's  cabi- 


68  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

net,  on  the  king's  paper ;  see  the  royal  arms !  The  bar- 
gain has  been  concluded ;  the  woman  who  has  consented 
to  become  the  instrument  of  his  project,  is  in  Paris,  of 
which  he  acquaints  his  mistress. 

"  '  DEAR  VALERIE, — 

" '  Germain  announces  to  me  the  arrival  of  your 
son's  nurse, — your  son,  our  son.  She  will  present  her- 
self at  your  house  during  the  day.  She  is  to  be  depended 
upon.  A  magnificent  recompense  is  the  price  of  her  dis- 
cretion. She  has  been  given  to  understand  that  you  are 
ignorant  of  the  proposed  exchange  of  children ;  there- 
fore say  nothing  to  her  that  may  undeceive  her  on  that 
point.  I  wish  to  charge  myself  with  the  sole  respon- 
sibility of  the  deed.  It  is  the  most  prudent  course.  This 
woman  is  of  Normandy.  She  was  born  on  our  lands 
and  in  some  sort  in  our  house.  Her  husband  is  an  hon- 
est mariner.  Her  name  is  Claudine  Lerouge. 

'  Be  of  good  courage,  my  love !  I  am  exacting  from 
you  the  greatest  sacrifice  that  can  be  made  by  woman ; 
and  I  appreciate  the  devotion  that  foregoes  a  mother's 
happiness  for  thy  lover's  sake.  There  is  no  longer  a 
doubt, that  heaven  is  protecting  us.  All  smiles.  Here- 
after everything  depends  upon  our  address,  our  pru- 
dence. I  feel  that  we  shall  succeed ! ' : 

On  one  point,  at  least  Pere  Tabaret  was  sufficiently 
enlightened.  The  researches  into  the  past  life  of  the 
Widow  Lerouge  were  anticipated.  He  could  not  re- 
strain an  exclamation,  "  At  last !  "  of  satisfaction,  which 
fortunately  escaped  Noel. 

"  This  note,"  said  the  advocate,  "  closes  the  Count  de 
Commarin's  correspondence." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  old  fellow,  "  you  are  in  pos- 
session of  nothing  more  ?  " 

"  I  have  yet  ten  lines,  written  many  years  later,  which 
certainly  have  some  weight,  but  after  all  offer  only 
moral  proof." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  69 

"  What  a  misfortune !  "  murmured  Pere  Tabaret. 
Noel  replaced  on  his  bureau  the  letters  which  were  in 
his  hand,  and  turning  towards  his  old  friend,  looked  at 
him  steadily. 

"  Suppose,"  he  said  slowly,  and  emphasizing1  every 
syllable, — "  suppose  that  all  my  sources  of  information 
end  here.  Admit,  for  a  moment,  that  I  know  nothing 
more  than  you  do  now.  What  is  your  advice  ?  " 

Pere  Tabaret  paused  some  minutes  before  answering ; 
he  was  weighing  the  probabilities  resulting  from  the 
count's  letters. 

"  For  my  own  part,"  said  he  at  length,  "  I  believe  on 
my  soul  you  are  not  the  son  of  Madame  Gerdy." 

"And  you  believe  rightly!"  answered  the  advocate 
forcibly.  "  You  think,  do  you  not,  that,  after  reading 
these  letters,  I  ought  to  have  seen  and  questioned  Clau- 
dine?  You  will  say  this  poor  woman  who  nursed  me 
must  have  loved  me ;  that  she  must  have  suffered  some 
remorse  for  her  part  in  the  horrible  injustice  of  which 
I  was  the  victim  ?  Well,  I  have  seen  her.  I  have  ques- 
tioned her;  and  she  has  confessed  all.  She  was  only 
too  glad  to  do  so.  The  thought  of  her  complicity  tor- 
mented her.  It  was  a  weight  of  guilt  too  heavy  for  her 
age  to  bear ;  and  she  told  me  all.  The  count's  scheme, 
simply  and  yet  ingeniously  conceived,  succeeded  with- 
out any  effort ;  and  I,  poor  helpless  infant !  when  but 
three  days  old  was  thus  betrayed,  despoiled,  and  disin- 
herited by  my  unnatural  father  and  his  unworthy  mis- 
tress. Poor  Claudine!  remorse  was  dragging  her  to 
the  grave;  and  she  promised  me,  with  eagerness,  her 
testimony  on  the  day  I  should  reclaim  my  rights." 

"  And  she  has  gone,  carrying  her  secret  with  her," 
murmured  the  old  fellow  in  a  tone  of  regret. 

"  I  have  yet,"  said  Noel,  "  one  hope.    Claudine  had 


70  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

in  her  possession  several  letters,  written  subsequently, 
— some  by  the  Count,  some  by  Madame  Gerdy, — letters 
at  once  imprudent  and  explicit.  They  can  be,  without 
question,  recovered ;  and  their  evidence  will  be  decisive. 
I  have  had  them  in  my  hands :  I  have  read  them.  Clau- 
dine  would  have  given  them  to  me ;  but,  fool  that  I  was, 
I  did  not  take  them." 

The  little  hope  that  existed  in  that  quarter  no  one 
knew  better  than  Pere  Tabaret.  To  gain  possession  of 
those  very  letters,  the  crime  at  Jonchere  had  been  com- 
mitted. The  assassin  had  found  and  burned  them,  with 
the  other  papers,  in  the  little  stove.  The  old  amateur 
was  master  of  the  situation. 

"  Knowing  your  affairs,  my  dear  boy,  almost  as  thor- 
oughly as  my  own,"  said  the  old  fellow  after  another 
pause,  "  I  am  surprised  the  count  should  have  forgotten 
the  promises  he  made  in  his  letters  to  Madame  Gerdy, 
of  promoting  your  fortune." 

"He  seems  never  to  have  remembered  them,  my  old 
friend." 

"  That,"  cried  the  old  fellow  indignantly,  "  is  even 
more  infamous  than  all  the  rest !  " 

"  Do  not  accuse  my  father,"  answered  Noel  gravely ; 
"  his  liaison  with  Madame  Gerdy  ceased  long  ago.  I 
have  a  faint  recollection  of  a  distinguished  looking  man 
who  came  to  see  me  at  school.  I  am  now  persuaded 
it  was  the  count.  But  the  rupture  came." 

"  Naturally,"  said  Pere  Tabaret.  "  A  fine  gentle- 
man!" 

"  Suspend  your  judgment/'  interrupted  the  advo- 
cate. "  M.  de  Commarin  had  good  reason ;  his  mistress 
deceived  him.  He  discovered  her  perfidy,  and  cast  her 
off  with  just  indignation.  The  ten  lines  of  which  I 
have  spoken  were  written  then." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  71 

Noel  searched  a  considerable  time  among  the  papers 
scattered  upon  the  table,  and  at  length  selected  a  letter 
more  faded  and  creased  than  the  others.  Judging  from 
its  appearance  of  having  been  often  folded  and  un- 
folded, it  had  been  read  over  and  over  many  times ;  the 
writing  was  almost  effaced  in  many  places. 

"  In  this,"  said  he  in  a  bitter  tone,  "  Madame  Gerdy 
is  no  longer  '  adored  Valerie.'  " 

' '  A  cruel  friend  has,  like  a  true  friend,  opened  my 
eyes.  I  doubted  him,  believing  in  you:  but  you  have 
been  watched;  and  to-day,  unhappily,  I  can  doubt  no 
more.  You,  Valerie, — you  to  whom  I  have  given  more 
than  my  life, — you  have  deceived  me,  and  have  been  de- 
ceiving me  long.  Unhappy  man  that  I  am,  I  can 
no  longer  be  certain  that  I  am  the  father  of  your  child.' " 

"  But  this  letter  is  a  proof,"  cried  Pere  Tabaret, — "  a 
proof  that  cannot  be  overcome.  Of  what  importance  to1 
the  count  would  be  a  doubt  of  his  paternity,  had  he  not 
sacrificed  his  legitimate  to  his  natural  son?  Yes,  you 
have  said  truly,  my  dear  Noel,  his  chastisement  has 
been  severe." 

"  Madame  Gerdy,"  continued  Noel,  "  attempted  to 
justify  herself.  She  wrote  to  the  count ;  but  he  returned 
her  letters  unopened.  She  tried  to  see  him,  but  in  vain : 
he  would  not  grant  her  an  interview.  She  knew  that  all 
tvas  over  when  the  count's  steward  brought  her  a  legal 
settlement  of  fifteen  thousand  francs  a  year.  Her  son 
had  taken  my  place ;  and  his  mother  had  ruined  me !  " 

A  light  knock  at  the  door  of  the  study  interrupted 
their  conversation. 

"  Who  is  there?  "  demanded  Noel  without  stirring. 

"  Monsieur,"  answered  the  servant  from  outside  the 
door,  "  madame  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

The  advocate  appeared  to  hesitate. 


72  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Go,  my  son,"  advised  Pere  Tabaret ;  "  do  not  be 
merciless." 

Noel  arose  with  visible  reluctance,  and  passed  into 
Madame  Gerdy's  sleeping  apartment. 

"  Poor  boy !  "  thought  Pere  Tabaret  when  left  alone. 
"  What  a  fatal  discovery !  and  how  he  must  feel  it. 
Noble  young  man !  Brave,  honest  heart !  In  his  inno- 
cent simplicity,  he  sees  not  from  whence  the  blow  has 
fallen.  By  good  fortune,  I  am  not  so  blind.  I  can  see 
for  him;  and,  when  he  despairs  of  justice,  I  am  con- 
fident of  obtaining  it.  Thanks  to  his  information,  I 
can  see  it  all  now.  An  infant's  intelligence  might  now 
divine  whose  hand  struck  the  blow  that  silenced  the 
important  witness.  How  singular  that  he  should  as- 
sist the  discovery  of  this  crime  without  knowing  it! 
How  shall  I  proceed  ?  Ah !  if  I  could  have  one  of  those 
letters  for  four  and  twenty  hours.  He  probably  has 
counted  them.  I  dare  not  ask  for  one ;  I  would  be  com- 
pelled to  acknowledge  my  connection  with  the  police. 
Better  run  the  risk,  and  take  one,  no  matter  which,  that 
I  may  verify  the  writing." 

Pere  Tabaret  had  hardly  thrust  one  of  the  letters  into 
the  depths  of  one  of  his  capacious  pockets,  when  the  ad- 
vocate returned. 

He  was  one  of  those  men  of  strongly  formed  charac- 
ter whose  self-control  never  deserts  them.  He  was  long 
accustomed  to  dissimulation,  that  indispensable  armor 
of  the  ambitious. 

Nothing  in  his  manner  betrayed  what  had  taken  place 
between  Madame  Gerdy  and  himself.  He  was  abso- 
lutely as  calm  as,  when  seated  in  his  arm-chair,  he  lis- 
tened to  the  interminable  nothings  of  his  clients. 

"Well,"  demanded  Pere  Tabaret,  "  how  is  she 
now  ?  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  73 

"  Worse,"  answered  Noel :  "  she  is  delirious.  She 
just  now  assailed  me  with  the  most  injurious  accusa- 
tions, upbraiding  me  as  the  vilest  of  mankind.  I  am 
persuaded  she  is  out  of  her  senses." 

"  Or  losing  them,"  murmured  Pere  Tabaret ;  "  and  I 
think  you  ought  to  call  in  a  physician." 

"  I  am  going  in  search  of  one,"  answered  Noel. 

The  advocate  resumed  his  seat  before  his  bureau,  and 
re-arranged,  according  to  their  dates,  the  scattered 
letters.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  he  was 
wanting  advice  from  his  old  friend;  nor  did  he 
appear  desirous  of  renewing  the  conversation.  This 
was  the  farthest  in  the  world  from  Pere  Tabaret's 
intention. 

"  The  more  I  ponder  over  your  history,  my  dear 
Noel,"  commenced  he,  "  the  more  I  am  bewildered.  I 
do  not  know  what  resolution  I  should  adopt,  were  I  in 
your  situation." 

"  Yes,  my  old  friend,"  answered  the  advocate,  "  it  is  a 
situation  that  might  well  perplex  more  profound  ex- 
periences than  yours." 

The  amateur  repressed  with  difficulty  the  smile,  which 
for  an  instant  appeared  upon  his  lips. 

"  I  confess  it  humbly,"  said  he,  taking  pleasure  in  as- 
suming an  air  of  innocence.  "  But  have  you  done  any 
thing  yet?  Your  first  move  should  have  been  to  de- 
mand an  explanation  of  Madame  Gerdy." 

Noel  made  a  startled  movement,  which  was  unno- 
ticed by  Pere  Tabaret,  pre-occupied  as  he  was  in  trying 
to  give  the  turn  he  desired  to  the  conversation. 

"  It  was  by  that,"  answered  Noel,  "  I  began." 

"Well,  what  did  she  say?" 

"  What  could  she  say  ?  Was  she  not  overwhelmed  by 
the  discovery  ?  " 


74  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  What !  did  she  not  attempt  to  exculpate  herself  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  sneered  Noel,  "  she  attempted ;  she  is  ac- 
customed to  attempt  the  impossible,  of  course.  She  pre- 
tended to  explain  the  correspondence.  She  told  me,  I 
know  not  how  many  absurd  falsehoods." 

The  advocate  finished  gathering  up  his  letters,  with- 
out seeming  to  perceive  the  abstraction,  tied  them  care- 
fully, and  replaced  them  in  the  secret  drawer. 

"  Yes,"  continued  he,  rising  and  shutting  up  his 
bureau,  as  if  trying  by  the  movement  to  calm  his  anger, 
— "  yes,  she  attempted  to  make  me  believe  the  exchange 
had  never  taken  place, — no  easy  matter,  considering  the 
proofs  I  hold.  This  is  the  occasion  of  her  sickness.  The 
idea  that  her  son,  whom  she  adores,  should  be  obliged  to 
restore  to  me  the  name  and  fortune  of  which  he  robbed 
me  broke  her  heart.  She  could  see  me  suffer  the  most 
cruel  privations ;  but  she  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
her  son's  displacement.  Rather  than  I  should  hurt  a 
hair  of  his  head,  she  would  consign  me  to  the  bottomless 
pit." 

"  She  has  probably  acquainted  the  count  with  your 
discovery,"  said  Pere  Tabaret,  pursuing  his  idea. 

"  Hardly ;  for  the  count  has  been  absent  from  Paris 
more  than  a  month,  and  is  not  expected  to  return  until 
the  end  of  the  week." 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  " 

"  I  called  at  the  house,  as  I  wished  to  see  and  speak 
with  him." 

"You?" 

"  Yes.  Do  you  think  I  shall  not  reclaim  my  own  ?  Do 
you  imagine  that  I  am  the  man  to  be  robbed,  spoiled, 
and  betrayed  with  impunity?  No,  I  have  rights;  and 
I  shall  make  them  good.  What  consideration  with- 
holds me  from  lifting  up  my  voice  and  proclaiming  my 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  75 

wrongs?  I  shall  claim  my  rights.  Do  you  think  that 
surprising?  " 

"  No,  certainly,  my  friend ;  then  you  have  visited  M. 
de  Commarin's  house  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  did  not  adopt  this  resolution  immediately," 
continued  Noel.  "  My  discovery  made  me  at  first  al- 
most lose  my  senses.  A  thousand  opposing  sentiments' 
agitated  me.  At  one  moment,  my  fury  blinded  me ;  the 
next,  my  courage  deserted  me.  I  would,  and  I  would 
not.  I  was  undecided,  uncertain,  wild.  The  eclat  that 
must  be  occasioned  by  the  publicity  of  such  an  affair 
terrified  me.  I  longed  to  recover, — I  will  recover  my 
name ;  but  I  would  at  the  same  time  preserve  that  noble 
name  from  stain.  I  would,  if  possible,  find  a  means  of 
conciliating  all  parties  concerned,  without  publicity  and 
without  scandal." 

"You  decided?" 

"  Yes,  after  a  struggle  of  fifteen  days, — fifteen  days 
of  torture,  of  anguish !  Ah !  what  I  suffered  in  that  time ! 
I  neglected  my  business,  being  unable  to  fix  my  mind 
upon  any  kind  of  work.  During  the  day,  I  tried  by 
incessant  action  to  fatigue  my  body,  that  at  night  I 
might  find  forgetfulness  in  sleep.  Vain  hope:  since  I 
found  those  ill-omened  letters,  I  have  not  slept  an  hour." 

From  time  to  time,  Pere  Tabaret  silently  consulted 
his  watch. 

"  M.  Daburon  will  be  asleep,"  thought  he. 

"  One  morning,"  continued  Noel,  "  after  a  night  of 
rage,  I  determined  to  end  all  uncertainty.  I  was  in  that 
desperate  state  of  mind,  in  which  the  gambler,  after 
successive  losses,  throws  upon  the  board  his  last  re- 
maining coin.  I  called  a  carriage,  and,  with  a  beating 
heart,  gave  the  order,  '  To  the  Hotel  de  Commarin, 
Faubourg  St.  Germain.' " 


76  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  old  amateur  allowed  a  sigh  of  impatience  to 
escape  him. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  magnificent  houses  in  Paris," 
•continued  Noel, — "  a  princely  dwelling,  worthy  the 
representation  of  an  illustrious  family, — almost  a  pal- 
ace. Right  and  left  of  the  vast  courtyard  are  the  stables, 
where  twenty  horses  of  price  are  standing  in  reserve  for 
common  use.  At  the  back  rises  the  grand  fagade  of  the 
main  building,  majestic  and  severe,  with  its  sculptured 
pediment,  its  noble  portico,  and  its  double  flight  of 
marble  steps.  Behind  the  house  extends  a  large  garden, 
or  rather  a  park,  shaded  by  the  oldest  trees,  perhaps, 
in  Paris." 

This  enthusiastic  description  sorely  tested  Pere  Tab- 
aret's  patience ;  but  he  did  not  venture  to  interrupt  Noel 
by  a  question.  An  indiscreet  word  might  betray  him, 
and  reveal  his  relation  with  the  bureau  of  investigation. 

"  Standing  before  the  dwelling  of  my  ancestors,"  con- 
tinued Noel,  "  you  cannot  comprehend  the  excess  of 
my  emotion.  Here,  said  I,  is  the  house  in  which  I  was 
born.  This  is  the  home  in  which  I  should  have  been 
reared;  and,  above  all,  this  is  the  spot  where  I  should 
reign  to-day,  whereon  I  stand  an  outcast  and  a  stranger, 
devoured  by  the  sad  and  bitter  memories,  of  which  ban- 
ished men  have  died.  I  compared  my  brother's  brill- 
iant destinies  with  my  sad  and  laborious  career ;  and  my 
indignation  well  nigh  overmastered  reason.  The  mad 
impulse  stirred  me  to  force  the  doors,  to  rush  into  the 
grand  salon,  and  drive  out  the  intruder, — the  son  of 
Madame  Gerdy, — who  has  taken  the  place  of  the  son 
of  the  Countess  de  Commarin!  Out,  usurper,  out  of 
this.  I  am  the  master  here.  The  propriety  of  legal 
means  at  once  recurred  to  my  distracted  mind  however, 
and  restrained  me.  Once  more  I  stood  before  the  habi- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  77 

tation  of  my  fathers.  How  I  love  its  old  sculptures,  its 
grand  old  trees,  its  shaded  walks,  worn  by  the  feet  of 
my  poor  mother!  I  love  all,  even  to  the  proud  es^ 
cutcheon,  frowning  above  the  principal  doorway,  fling- 
ing its  defiance  to  the  theories  of  this  age  of  levellers." 

This  last  phrase  conflicted  so  directly  with  the  code 
of  opinions  habitual  to  Noel,  that  Pere  Tabaret  was 
obliged  to  turn  aside,  to  conceal  his  amusement. 

"  Poor  humanity !  ''  thought  he ;  "  he  is  already  ths 
grand  seigneur." 

"  On  presenting  myself,"  continued  the  advocate,  "  I 
demanded  to  see  the  Count  de  Commarin.  A  Swiss  por* 
ter,  in  grand  livery,  answered,  the  count  was  travelingj 
but  that  the  viscount  was  at  home.  This  ran  counter  to 
my  designs ;  but  I  was  embarked ;  so  I  insisted  on  speak- 
ing to  the  son  in  default  of  the  father.  The  Swiss  por- 
ter stared  at  me  with  astonishment.  He  had  evidently 
seen  me  alight  from  a  hired  carriage,  and  so  deliber- 
ated for  some  moments  as  to  whether  I  was  not  too  in- 
significant a  person  to  have  the  honor  of  being  admitted 
to  visit  the  viscount." 

"  But  tell  me,  have  you  seen  him  ? "  asked  Pere 
Tabaret,  unable  to  restrain  his  impatience. 

"  Of  course,  immediately,"  replied  the  advocate  in  a 
tone  of  bitter  raillery.  "  Could  the  examination,  think 
you,  result  otherwise  than  in  my  favor  ?  No.  My  white 
cravat  and  black  costume  produced  their  natural  effect. 
The  Swiss  porter  entrusted  me  to  the  guidance  of  a 
chasseur  with  a  plumed  hat,  who,  leading  me  across 
the  court  to  a  superb  vestibule,  transferred  me  to  the 
care  of  a  lackey;  who,  in  company  with  five  or  six 
others,  was  lolling  upon  a  bench.  This  fine  gentleman 
led  me  up  a  spacious  staircase,  wide  enough  for  a  car- 
riage to  ascend,  and  preceded  me  along  an  extensive 


78  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

picture  gallery,  guided  me  across  a  vast  apartment,  of 
which  the  furniture  was  shrouded  in  sombre  coverings, 
and  finally  delivered  me  into  the  hands  of  the  valet  de 
chambre  of  Albert  de  Commarin;  that  is  to  say,  the 
man  who  bears  my  name." 

"  I  understand,  I  understand." 

"  I  had  passed  an  inspection ;  now  I  had  to  undergo 
an  examination.  M.  Albert's  valet  desired  to  be  in- 
formed who  I  was,  whence  I  came,  and  what  I  wanted, 
what  was  my  profession,  and  all  the  rest.  I  answered 
simply,  that  I  was  unknown  to  the  viscount ;  but  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  I  should  converse  with  him  for  five 
minutes  upon  an  affair  of  the  most  urgent  nature.  I 
waited  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  he  reap- 
peared. His  master  had  graciously  deigned  to  receive 
me." 

It  was  easy  to  perceive  that  his  reception  rankled  in 
the  advocate's  breast.  He  could  not  forgive  Albert  his 
lackeys  and  his  valet  de  chambre.  He  forgot  the  words 
of  the  illustrious  duke,  who  said,  "  I  pay  my  valets  for 
being  insolent,  to  save  myself  the  trouble."  Pere  Ta- 
baret  was  a  little  surprised  at  his  young  friend's  bitter- 
ness, in  speaking  of  these  trivial  details. 

"  Can  it  be  true,"  thought  he,  "  that  the  arrogance  of 
lackeys  is  the  secret  of  the  people's  hatred  of  the  aris- 
tocracy ?  " 

"  I  was  ushered  into  a  small  salon,"  continued  Noel, 
"  simply  furnished,  the  only  ornaments  of  which  were 
weapons.  These,  ranged  against  the  walls,  were  of  all 
times  and  countries.  Never  have  I  seen  in  so  small  a 
space  so  many  muskets,  arquebusses,  pistols,  swords, 
sabres,  and  foils:  one  might  have  imagined  himself  in 
the  arsenal  of  a  maitre  de  armes." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  79 

The  weapon  used  by  the  Widow  Lerouge's  assassin 
naturally  recurred  to  the  old  fellow's  memory. 

"  The  viscount,"  continued  Noel,  speaking  slowly, 
"  was  half  lying  on  the  divan  when  I  entered.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  jacket  and  pantaloons  of  velvet,  and  had 
around  his  neck  an  immense  scarf  of  white  silk.  I  do 
not  cherish  resentment  against  this  young  man.  He 
has  never  to  his  knowledge  injured  me.  He  had  no 
share  in  his  parent's  crime.  I  am  therefore  able  to  speak 
of  him  with  justice.  He  is  handsome,  has  a  noble  air, 
and  carries  gracefully  the  name  which  does  not  belong 
to  him.  He  is  about  my  height,  of  the  same  brown 
complexion,  and  would  resemble  me,  perhaps,  if  he  did 
not  wear  a  beard.  Yet  he  appears  at  least  five  years 
younger;  but  this  is  readily  explained,  he  has  neither 
worked  nor  suffered.  He  is  one  of  the  fortunate  ones  of 
the  earth,  who  traverse  life's  road  on  such  soft  cushions 
that  they  are  never  injured  by  the  jolting  of  the  car- 
riage. On  seeing  me,  he  arose  and  saluted  me  gra- 
ciously." 

"  You  must  have  been  dreadfully  excited." 

"  Less  than  I  am  at  this  moment :  remember,  I  was 
fifteen  days  preparing  for  this  interview;  and  fifteen 
days  of  mental  torture  exhausts  one's  emotions.  I  an- 
swered the  question  I  saw  upon  his  lips.  '  Monsieur,' 
said  I,  '  you  do  not  know  me ;  but  that  is  of  little  con- 
sequence. I  come  to  you,  charged  with  a  very  grave,  a 
very  sad  mission,  which  not  only  interests  you,  but 
touches  the  honor  of  the  name  you  bear.'  Without  doubt 
he  did  not  believe  me ;  for,  in  a  tone  of  the  coolest  im- 
pertinence, he  asked  me  'Shall  you  be  long?'  I  an- 
swered as  coolly,  '  Yes.'  " 

"  Pray,"  said  Pere  Tabaret,  becoming  very  attentive, 


8o  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  do  not  omit  a  single  detail ;  it  may  be  very  important, 
you  understand." 

"  The  viscount,"  continued  Noel,  "  appeared  much 
disquieted.  At  length  he  said  courteously,  '  My  time  is 
hardly  at  my  own  disposal  this  morning.  I  am  at  this 
hour  engaged  to  call  upon  my  fiancee,  Mademoiselle 
d'Arlanges.  Can  we  not  postpone  this  conversation?  ' ' 

"  Good !  another  woman,"  said  the  old  fellow  to  him- 
self. 

"  I  answered  the  viscount,  that  an  explanation  would 
admit  of  no  delay;  and,  as  I  saw  him  prepare  to  dis- 
miss me,  I  drew  from  my  pocket  the  count's  correspond- 
ence, and  presented  to  him  one  of  the  letters.  On  rec- 
ognizing his  father's  handwriting,  he  became  more 
tractable,  declared  himself  at  my  service,  and  demanded 
permission  to  write  a  word  of  apology  to  the  lady  by 
whom  he  was  expected.  Having  written  the  note 
hastily,  he  handed  it  to  his  valet,  and  ordered  him  to 
send  it  to  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  immediately;  then, 
opening  the  door  of  the  adjoining  apartment,  his  li- 
brary, he  requested  me  to  enter." 

"  One  word,"  interrupted  the  old  fellow ;  "  was  he 
troubled  on  seeing  the  letters  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  After  closing  the  door, 
he  handed  me  a  chair,  and,  seating  himself,  said,  '  Now, 
monsieur,  explain  yourself.'  I  was  fully  prepared  for 
the  situation,  and  decided  to  strike  a  grand  coup. 

"  '  Monsieur,'  said  I,  '  my  mission  is  painful.  The 
facts  I  am  about  to  reveal  to  you  are  incredible.  I  be- 
seech you,  do  not  interrupt  me,  and  do  not  answer  me 
until  you  have  read  the  letters  I  am  about  to  show 
you.'  He  regarded  me  with  an  air  of  extreme  surprise, 
and  answered,  '  Speak !  I  can  hear  all.'  I  stood  up. 
'  Monsieur,'  said  I,  '  I  must  inform  you  that  you  are 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  81 

not  the  legitimate  son  of  M.  de  Commarin,  as  this  cor- 
respondence will  prove  to  you.  The  legitimate  son  ex- 
ists ;  and  he  it  is  who  sends  me.'  I  kept  my  eyes  on  his 
while  speaking;  and  I  saw  there  a  passing  gleam  of 
fury.:  for  a  moment  I  expected  he  was  about  to  spring 
at  my  throat.  He  spoke  quickly.  '  The  letters/  said  he 
in  a  short  tone.  I  handed  them  to  him." 

"  How,"  cried  Pere  Tabaret,  "  these  letters — the  true 
ones  ?  How  imprudent !  " 

"And  why?" 

"If  he  had — I  don't  know;  but — "  the  old  fellow 
hesitated.  The  advocate  leaned  his  powerful  hand  upon 
the  old  man's  shoulder. 

"  I  was  there,"  said  he  in  a  hollow  tone ;  "  and  I  prom- 
ise you  the  letters  were  in  no  danger." 

Noel's  features  assumed  such  a  sudden  expression  of 
ferocity  that  the  old  fellow  was  terrified,  and  recoiled  in- 
stinctively. 

"  He  would  have  killed  him,"  thought  he. 

The  advocate  resumed. 

"  That  which  I  have  done  for  you  this  evening,  my 
friend,  I  did  for  the  viscount.  I  obviated,  at  least  for 
the  moment  the  necessity  of  reading  all  of  these  hun- 
dred and  fifty-six  letters,  by  directing  his  attention  to 
those  marked  with  a  cross,  and  to  the  passages  of  most 
especial  importance,  indicated  with  a  red  pencil." 

"  It  was  an  abridgement  of  his  penance,"  said  Pere 
Tabaret. 

"  He  was  seated,"  continued  Noel,  "  before  a  little 
table,  too  fragile  even  to  lean  upon.  I  was  resting 
against  the  mantelpiece.  I  followed  his  slightest  move- 
ments ;  and  I  scanned  his  features  closely.  Never  in  my 
life  have  I  seen  so  sad  a  spectacle.  I  shall  never  forget 
it,  were  I  to  live  a  thousand  years.  In  less  than  five  min- 


82  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

utes  his  face  changed  to  a  degree  that  his  own  valet 
would  not  have  recognized  him.  He  held  his  handker- 
chief in  his  hand,  with  which  from  time  to  time  me- 
chanically he  wiped  his  lips;  and,  as  he  read,  the  lips 
became  as  white  as  the  handkerchief.  Large  drops  of 
sweat  stood  upon  his  forehead;  and  his  eyes  became 
dull  and  clouded,  as  if  a  film  had  covered  them :  but  not 
an  exclamation,  not  a  sign,  not  a  groan,  escaped  him, 
not  even  a  gesture.  At  one  moment,  I  felt  such  pity 
for  him  that  I  was  almost  on  the  point  of  snatching  the 
letters  from  his  hands,  throwing  them  into  the  fire,  and 
taking  him  in  my  arms,  crying,  '  No,  you  are  my 
brother!  Forget  all;  let  us  remain  each  one  in  his 
place !  Let  us  love  one  another.'  " 

Pere  Tabaret  took  Noel's  hand,  and  pressed  it. 
"  Ah !  "  cried  he,  "  I  recognize  my  generous  boy." 
"  If  I  have  not  done  this,  my  friend,  it  is  because  I 
said  to  myself,  '  These  letters  burned,  would  he  recog- 
nize me  as  his  brother  ?  ' ' 

"  Ay !  "  sighed  Pere  Tabaret,  "  it  is  true." 
"  In  about  half  an  hour,  he  had  finished  reading :  he 
arose,  and  facing  me  directly,  said, '  You  are  right,  mon- 
sieur. If  these  letters  are  really  written  by  my  father,  as 
I  believe  them  to  be,  they  distinctly  prove  that  I  am  not 
the  son  of  the  Countess  de  Commarin.'  I  did  not  an- 
swer. '  Meanwhile/  continued  he,  '  these  are  only  pre- 
sumptions. Are  you  possessed  of  other  proofs  ? '  I  ex- 
pected, of  course,  a  great  many  other  objections.  '  Ger- 
main,' said  I, '  can  speak.'  He  told  me  that  Germain  had 
been  dead  for  several  years.  Then  I  spoke  of  the  nurse, 
the  Widow  Lerouge.  I  explained  how  easily  she  could 
be  found  and  questioned,  adding  that  she  lived  at  la 
Jonchere." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  83 

"  And  what  said  he,  Noel,  to  this  ?  "  demanded  Pere 
Tabaret  anxiously. 

"  He  preserved  a  moment's  silence,  and  appeared  to 
reflect.  All  on  a  sudden  he  struck  his  forehead,  and 
said,  '  I  remember ;  I  know  her.  I  have  accompanied 
my  father  to  her  house  three  times,  and  have  seen  him 
give  her  considerable  sums  of  money.'  " 

"  I  remarked  to  him  that  this  was  yet  another  proof. 
He  made  no  answer,  but  went  out  as  if  to  look  for 
something  in  the  adjoining  room.  He  returned  after 
some  minutes, — 

"  '  Monsieur,  said  he,  can  I  meet  the  legitimate  son  of 
the  count,  my  father  ? '  I  answered,  '  You  see  him  be- 
fore you,  monsieur!'  He  bowed  his  head,  and  mur- 
mured, '  I  knew  it  was  he/  He  took  my  hand,  and 
added,  '  Brother,  I  bear  you  no  grudge  for  the  step  you 
have  taken.  All  I  ask  of  you  is,  to  wait  eight  or  ten 
days,  when  my  father  will  return.  I  will  explain  every 
thing  to  him;  and  I  promise  you  that  justice  shall  be 
done.  I,  on  my  side,  lose  everything, — name,  position, 
fortune,  and,  worse  than  all,  I  shall  probably  lose  my 
plighted  bride,  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges,  who  is  dearer 
to  me  than  life  itself.  In  exchange,  it  is  true  I  shall  find 
a  mother.  I  will  labor  to  console  her  for  your  loss, 
monsieur,  and  win  her  love  by  tenderness  and  devo- 
tion.' " 

"  Did  he  really  say  that  ?  " 

"  Almost  word  for  word." 

"  Hypocrite !  "  growled  the  old  fellow  between  his 
teeth. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  Noel. 

"  I  say  that  he  is  a  fine  young  man ;  and  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  make  his  acquaintance." 


84  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  I  did  not  show  him  the  letter  referring  to  the  rup- 
ture," added  Noel ;  "  so  that  he  is  ignorant  of  Madame 
Gerdy's  misconduct.  I  voluntarily  deprived  myself  of 
this  proof,  rather  than  give  him  further  pain." 

"  And  now  ?  " 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  am  waiting  the  count's  return. 
I  shall  act  more  freely  after  hearing  what  he  has  to  say. 
To-morrow  I  shall  demand  permission  from  the  tribu- 
nals to  examine  the  papers  belonging  to  Claudine.  If  I 
find  the  letters,  I  am  saved ;  if  not, — but,  as  I  have  told 
you,  I  have  taken  no  step  since  I  knew  of  this  assassi- 
nation. Now,  what  is  your  advice  ?  " 

"  The  briefest  counsel  demands  long  reflection,"  re- 
plied the  old  fellow,  who  was  in  haste  to  depart.  "  Alas  ! 
my  poor  boy,  what  a  fate  yours  has  been !  " 

"  Terrible !  and,  in  addition  to  all  this  distraction,  I 
have  pecuniary  embarrassments." 

"How!   you  who  spend  nothing?" 

"  I  have  advanced  large  sums  on  mortgages.  I  might 
make  use  of  Madame  Gerdy's  fortune,  which  I  have 
hitherto  used  as  my  own ;  but  no,  I  could  not  bring  my- 
self to  it." 

"  You  certainly  ought  not ;  but  hold !  I  am  glad  you 
spoke  of  money :  you  can  render  me  a  service." 

"  Very  willingly ;  in  what  way  ?  " 

"  I  have  in  my  secretary  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand 
francs,  which  trouble  me  exceedingly,  you  can  easily  un- 
derstand why.  I  am  an  old  man,  weak  and  defenceless. 
If  any  one  knew  I  had  this  money — " 

"  You  are  certainly  imprudent  in  running  such  a 
risk,"  acknowledged  the  advocate. 

"  Then/'  said  the  old  fellow,  "  to-morrow  I  will  give 
them  to  you  to  take  care  of." 

But  remembering  he  was  about  to  put  himself  at  M. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  85 

Daburon's  disposal,  and  that  perhaps  he  might  not  be 
free  on  the  morrow,  he  said, — 

"  But  no,  I  will  not  wait  until  to-morrow.  This  in- 
fernal money  shall  not  remain  another  night  in  my 
keeping." 

He  darted  out,  and  presently  reappeared,  holding  in 
his  hand  fifteen  bank  bills  of  a  thousand  francs  each. 

"  If  that  is  not  sufficient  for  the  present,"  said  he, 
handing  them  to  Noel,  "  you  can  have  more." 

"  I  will  give  you  a  receipt,"  said  the  advocate. 

"  Time  enough  to-morrow." 

"And  if  I  die  to-night?" 

"  Then,"  said  the  old  fellow  to  himself,  thinking  of 
his  will,  "  some  one  else  will  have  to  be  my  heir.  Good- 
night !  "  said  he  aloud :  "  you  have  asked  my  advice ; 
I  shall  require  the  night  for  reflection.  At  present  my 
brain  is  whirling;  I  must  go  out  into  the  air.  If  I  go  to 
bed  now,  I  shall  have  a  horrible  nightmare.  Good-night, 
my  boy ;  patience  and  courage.  Who  knows  whether  at 
this  very  hour  Providence  is  not  working  for  you  ?  " 

He  went  out ;  and  Noel,  leaving  his  door  open, 
listened  to  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  as  he  descended  the 
stairs.  Almost  immediately  the  cry  of,  "  Open,  if  you 
please,"  and  the  banging  of  the  door  apprised  him  that 
Pere  Tabaret  was  in  the  street. 

He  waited  a  few  minutes  and  refilled  his  lamp,  then 
took  a  small  packet  from  one  of  his  bureau  drawers, 
slipped  into  his  pockets  the  bank  bills  given  him  by  his 
old  friend,  and  quitted  his  study,  of  which  he  locked  the 
door.  On  the  landing  of  the  staircase  he  paused.  He 
listened  so  intently  that  even  Madame  Gerdy's  moans 
were  audible  to  him.  Hearing  nothing  else,  he  descended 
on  tiptoe.  A  minute  later  he  was  in  the  street. 


86       THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 


CHAPTER  V. 

COMMUNICATING  with  Madame  Gerdy's  apartments 
was  a  room  on  the  ground  floor,  formerly  a  coach  house, 
but  used  by  her  as  a  lumber  room.  Here  were  heaped 
together  all  the  old  rubbish  of  the  household, — utensils 
past  service,  articles  become  useless  or  cumbrous.  Here 
were  also  stored  the  provision  of  wood  and  coal  for  win- 
ter fuel. 

This  old  coach  house  had  a  small  door  opening  on  the 
street,  which  had  been  nailed  up  many  years  ago ;  but 
Noel  had  secretly  repaired  this  door,  provided  it  with 
a  lock,  of  which  he  kept  the  key,  and  by  its  means  was 
enabled  to  enter  or  leave  the  house  at  any  hour,  without 
the  porter's  knowledge. 

By  this  door  the  advocate  went  out,  using  the  utmost 
caution  in  opening  and  closing  it. 

When  in  the  street,  he  remained  a  moment  stationary, 
as  if  hesitating  which  way  to  go.  Then,  turning  his 
steps  towards  the  railway  depot  of  St.  Lazare,  he  hailed 
a  passing  cab. 

"  Rue  Faubourg  Montmarte,  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
Provence,  and  make  haste,"  said  Noel,  entering  the  ve- 
hicle. 

At  the  spot  named,  the  advocate  alighted,  and  dis- 
missed his  coachman.  Waiting  until  he  had  departed, 
Noel  turned  into  the  Rue  Provence,  and,  after  walking 
a  few  steps,  rang  the  door-bell  of  one  of  the  handsomest 
houses  in  the  street. 

The  door  was  immediately  opened. 

When  Noel  passed  before  the  loge,  the  porter  made 
him  a  bow,  at  once  respectful  and  patronizing, — one  of 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  87 

those  salutations  which  Parisian  porters  reserve  for  pa- 
trons of  open  hands  and  well-filled  purses. 

Arrived  at  the  second  floor,  the  advocate  paused, 
drew  a  key  from  his  pocket,  and  entered  as  if  at  home. 

At  the  sound  of  the  key  in  the  lock,  a  young  and 
pretty  waiting  woman,  with  a  bold  pair  of  eyes,  ran 
towards  him. 

"  Ah,  monsieur !  "  cried  she. 

This  exclamation  escaped  her  just  loud  enough  to  be 
audible  at  the  extremity  of  the  apartment,  and  serve  as 
a  signal,  if  needed.  It  was  as  if  she  cried,  "  Take  care !  " 
Noel  did  not  seem  to  remark  it. 

"  Madame  is  there  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  and  very  angry,  too,  I  can  tell  you. 
This  morning  she  wanted  me  to  go  in  search  of  you.  A 
little  while  ago,  she  spoke  of  going  herself.  I  have  had 
much  difficulty,  monsieur,  in  not  disobeying  your  or- 
ders." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  advocate. 

"  Madame  is  in  the  smoking  room,"  continued  the 
soubrette.  "  I  am  making  her  a  cup  of  tea.  Will  mon- 
sieur have  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Noel,  "  light  me,  Charlotte." 

They  passed  through  successively  a  magnificent  din- 
ing room,  a  splendid  salon  dort  in  the  style  of  Louis  the 
XIV.,  and  entered  the  smoking  room. 

This  was  a  rather  large  apartment,  of  which  the 
ceiling  was  remarkably  elevated.  On  entering  it,  the 
visitor  might  easily  imagine  himself  three  thousand 
miles  from  Paris,  in  the  house  of  some  opulent  manda- 
rin of  the  celestial  empire  of  China.  Furniture,  carpets, 
hangings,  pictures, — all  had  evidently  been  imported  di- 
rect from  Hongkong  or  Shanghai. 

A  rick  silk  tapestry,  representing  highly  colored  fig- 


88  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ures,  clothed  the  walls  and  hung  before  the  doors.  All 
the  empire  of  the  sun  and  moon  there  defiled  before  the 
spectator.  Corpulent  mandarins,  disported  themselves 
in  vermilion  landscapes,  or,  surrounded  by  lanterns,  lay 
stupefied  with  opium,  sleeping  under  their  parasols. 
Young  girls,  with  almond  shaped  eyes  elevated  at  the 
outer  corners,  stumbled  upon  their  diminutive  feet, 
swathed  in  bandalettes. 

The  carpet  of  a  tissue,  the  secret  of  which  is  unknown 
in  Europe,  was  strewn  with  fruits  and  flowers,  whose 
perfect  resemblance  to  natural  objects  might  have  de- 
ceived a  bee.  On  the  silken  canopy,  which  hid  the  ceil- 
ing, some  great  artist  of  Pekin  had  painted  fantastic 
birds,  opening  on  a  ground  of  azure  their  wings  of  pur- 
ple and  of  gold. 

Slender  rods  of  lacquer,  encrusted  with  mother  of 
pearl,  held  the  draperies  in  place,  and  marked  the  an- 
gles of  the  apartment. 

Two  fantastic  chests  occupied  one  side  of  the  room. 
Furniture  of  capricious  and  incoherent  forms,  tables 
with  porcelain  tops,  and  chiffoniers  of  precious  woods 
encumbered  every  recess  or  angle. 

Then  there  were  ornamental  nic-nacs,  purchased  in 
the  bazars  of  Lien  Tsi,  le  Tahan,  from  Sou-Tcheou,  the 
artistic  city, — a  thousand  curiosities  impossible  and  ex- 
pensive, from  the  ivory  chop  stick,  which  take  the  place 
of  our  forks,  to  the  tea-cups  of  porcelain,  thinner  than 
soap  bubbles, — miracles  of  the  reign  of  Kien  Loung. 

A  divan,  very  large  and  very  low,  piled  up  with 
cushions  covered  with  tapestry  similar  to  the  hangings, 
ran  along  the  back  of  the  room.  There  was  no  window ; 
but  instead  a  large  looking-glass,  reaching  from  floor 
to  ceiling,  was  let  into  the  wall,  in  front  of  which  was 
a  double  door  of  glass  with  movable  panes.  The  space 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  89 

between  this  glass  door  and  the  mirror  was  filled  with 
plants  and  rare  exotics;  which,  being  reflected  in  the 
mirror,  presented  the  optical  illusion  of  a  conserva- 
tory. 

The  absent  fireplace  and  chimney  was  replaced  by 
registers  adroitly  concealed,  which  maintained  a  tem- 
perature in  the  apartment  that  seemed  to  make  the  flow- 
ers blow  upon  the  silk,  truly  harmonizing  with  the  fur- 
nishing of  this  luxurious  abode. 

When  Noel  entered,  a  young  woman  was  lying  on 
the  divan,  smoking  a  cigarette.  In  spite  of  the  tropical 
heat,  she  was  enveloped  in  great  shawls  of  magnificent 
cashmere. 

She  was  petite,  and  united  in  her  small  figure  all  the 
physical  beauties  in  such  perfection  as  only  small  women 
can.  Women  who  are  above  the  medium  height  are 
either  essays,  or  errors  of  nature.  If  handsome,  they  in- 
variably present  some  defect ;  like  the  work  of  a  sculp- 
tor, whose  faults,  unnoticed  when  presented  in  a  statu- 
ette, become  glaring  when  exhibited  in  a  colossal  fig- 
ure. 

She  was  small ;  but  her  neck,  her  shoulders,  and  her 
arms  had  the  most  exquisite  contours.  Her  hands,  small 
and  plump,  even  to  the  retrousse  finger  tips  and  rosy 
nails,  were  of  marvellous  beauty,  and  seemed  preciously 
cared  for.  Her  feet,  encased  in  silken  stockings  almost 
as  thin  as  a  cobweb,  were  a  marvel ;  not  that  they  re- 
called the  fabled  foot  which  Cinderella  thrust  into  the 
glassy  slipper;  but  that  other  foot, — more  real,  more 
palpable,  though  less  celebrated, — of  which  the  fair 
owner  (the  wife  of  a  well-known  banker)  used  to  pre- 
sent the  model  to  her  admirers  in  bronze  or  in  marble. 

Her  face  was  not  beautiful,  nor  even  pretty :  but  her 
features  were  such  as  one  never  forgets ;  for,  at  the  first 


90  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

glance,  they  startled  the  beholder  like  a  flash  of  light- 
ning. Her  forehead  was  a  little  high,  and  her  mouth 
unmistakably  large,  notwithstanding  the  provoking 
freshness  of  her  lips.  Her  eyebrows  seemed  to  have 
been  drawn  with  Chinese  ink ;  but,  unhappily  the  pencil 
had  been  used  too  heavily;  and  they  gave  her  an  un- 
pleasant expression  when  she  frowned.  In  revenge  for 
these  defects,  her  smooth  complexion  had  a  rich  golden 
pallor;  and  her  black  and  velvety  eyes  possessed  enor- 
mous magnetic  power.  Her  teeth  were  sound  and  of  a 
pearly  brilliancy  and  whiteness;  and  her  hair,  of  pro- 
digious opulence,  was  black  and  waving,  and  glossy  as 
a  raven's  wing. 

On  perceiving  Noel,  as  he  drew  aside  the  silken  cur- 
tain which  served  as  a  door,  she  half-arose  and  leaned 
upon  her  elbow. 

"  So  you  have  come  at  last  ?  "  said  she  in  a  tone  of 
vexation :  "  we  ought  to  be  very  happy !  " 

The  advocate  was  almost  suffocated  by  the  oppressive 
temperature  of  the  room. 

"  How  warm  it  is !  "  said  he ;  "  it  is  enough  to  stifle 
one!" 

"  Do  you  find  it  warm  ?  "  replied  the  young  woman. 
"  Well,  that  shows  the  extent  of  my  suffering !  I  am 
shivering :  but  it's  your  fault ;  you  know  that  waiting  is 
insupportable  to  me.  It  acts  upon  my  nerves ;  and  I  have 
waited  for  you  since  yesterday." 

"  It  has  been  impossible  for  me  to  come,"  said  Noel, — 
"  impossible !  " 

"  You  know  perfectly  well,"  continued  the  lady,  "  that 
to-day  was  my  settling  day;  and  I  have  had  quite  a 
number  of  bills  to  pay.  The  upholsterer  came.  Not  a 
sou  to  give  him.  The  coachmaker  sent  his  bill.  No 
money :  call  again !  then  this  old  swindler  who  holds  my 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  91 

note  for  three  thousand  francs, — he  has  been  here,  mak- 
ing a  frightful  row !  All  this  is  agreeable,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Noel  bowed  his  head  like  a  truant  school-boy,  under- 
going the  pedagogue's  rebuke. 

"  It  is  but  one  day  behind,"  murmured  he. 

"  One  day  behind !  "  retorted  the  young  woman ; 
"and  is  that  nothing?  A  man  who  respects  himself 
may  permit  his  own  note  to  be  protested,  if  he  will ;  but 
that  of  his  mistress,  never !  " 

"  For  what  do  you  take  me  ?  "  continued  she,  working 
herself  into  a  passion.  "  Do  you  forget  that  I  receive  no 
consideration  from  you  except  money  ?  Very  well,  since 
I  am  to  have  nothing  else,  I  will  have  that  at  all  events ; 
and  the  day  it  is  not  forthcoming,  I  bid  you  good-by." 

"  My  dear  Juliette ! — "  began  the  advocate,  gently. 

"  Oh,  yes !  that's  all  very  fine ;  but  I  have  heard  it  all 
before,"  interrupted  she.  "  Your  dear  Juliette !  your 
adored  Juliette!  and,  as  long  as  you  are  face  to  face 
with  Juliette,  she  is  an  angel,  if  she  would  allow  you  to 
make  a  fool  of  her :  but,  no  sooner  have  you  turned  your 
back  upon  Juliette,  than  she  is  given  to  the  winds ;  and 
you  never  take  the  trouble  even  to  remember  that  there 
is  such  a  person  as  Juliette ! " 

"How  unjust  you  are!"  replied  Noel.  "As  if  you 
are  not  well  assured  that  I  am  always  thinking  of  you. 
Have  I  not  proved  it  to  you  a  thousand  times  ?  Hold !  I 
am  going  to  prove  it  to  you  again  this  instant." 

So  saying,  he  produced  the  small  packet  he  had  taken 
from  his  bureau,  and,  opening  it,  showed  her  a  hand- 
some velvet  casket. 

"  See !  "  said  he,  exultingly,  "  the  bracelet  you  wished 
for  so  much,  eight  days  ago,  at  M.  Beaugrau's." 

Madame  Juliette,  without  rising,  held  out  her  hand 
to  take  the  jewel  case,  and,  opening  it  with  the  utmost 


92  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

nonchalance,  glanced  at  the  magnificent  bauble;  then, 
closing  the  casket,  she  threw  it  carelessly  upon  a  little 
table  near  her,  saying,  — 

"  It  looked  much  prettier  in  the  shop  window." 
"  I  am  unfortunate,  this  evening,"  said  the  advocate, 
apparently  much  mortified  at  the  reception  of  his  costly 
present. 

"  Unfortunate,  my  friend  ?  Indeed,  how  so  ?  " 
"  I  see  plainly  the  bracelet  does  not  please  you." 
"  Oh,  yes !  it  is  very  pretty ;  at  all  events,  it  will  com- 
plete the  two  dozen." 

At  this  Noel  almost  lost  patience:  but  he  controlled 
himself;  and,  as  she  was  silent,  he  went  on, — 
"  You  exhibit  little  sign  of  gratification." 
"  Oh !  indeed !  "  cried  the  lady.    "  I  am  not  grateful 
enough!    I  am  not  sufficiently  profuse  in  my  acknow- 
ledgments,  to  please  my  generous  benefactor?    You 
bring  me  a  present,  and  expect  instant  payment.   I  am 
to  fill  the  house  with  cries  of  joy,  and  throw  myself 
upon  my  knees  before  your  feet,  calling  you  a  great  and 
magnificent  seigneur !  " 

Noel  was  unable  this  time  to  restrain  a  gesture  of  im- 
patience; which  Juliette  perceived  plainly  enough,  to 
her  great  delight. 

"  Is  that  sufficient?  "  continued  she.  "  Or  must  I  call 
Charlotte  to  admire  this  superb  monument  of  your  gen- 
erosity ?  Shall  I  run  down  stairs  to  exhibit  it  to  the  por- 
ter ?  shall  I  go  into  the  kitchen  and  dazzle  the  eyes  of  my 
cook,  and  ask  her  if  I  ought  not  to  be  happy  in  the  pos- 
session of  a  lover  so  unboundedly  munificent  ?  " 

The  advocate  raised  his  shoulders  like  a  philosopher, 
unable  to  answer  the  jests  of  a  child. 

"  A  truce  to  these  cutting  witticisms,"  said  he.   "  If 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  93 

you  have  any  complaint  against  me,  better  to  say  so 
simply  and  seriously." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Juliette,  quickly,  changing  her  man- 
ner. "  Let  us  be  serious.  And,  being  so,  let  me  tell  you 
it  would  have  been  better  to  have  forgotten  the  bracelet, 
and  remembered  the  eight  thousand  francs  of  which  I 
have  such  pressing  need." 

"  I  could  not  come." 

"  You  might  send ;  there  are  messengers  at  the  street- 
corners." 

"  If  I  have  neither  brought  nor  sent  them,  my  dear 
Juliette,  it  was  because  I  did  not  have  the  amount.  I 
have  trouble  enough  in  getting  a  promise  of  it  to-mor- 
row. If  I  have  the  sum  this  evening,  I  owe  it  to  a 
chance  upon  which  I  could  not  have  counted  an  hour 
ago ;  and  I  have  brought  it  to  you  to-night,  at  the  risk 
of  compromising  myself." 

"  Poor  man !  "  said  Juliette,  in  a  tone  of  pity ;  then 
incredulously,  "  do  you  dare  to  tell  me  you  have  had 
difficulty  in  finding  ten  thousand  francs, — you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Noel,  calmly,  "  I !  " 

The  young  woman  looked  at  her  lover,  and  burst  into 
a  fit  of  laughter. 

"  You  are  superb  in  the  role  of  poor  young  man !  " 
said  Juliette  scornfully. 

"  It  is  not  a  role,"  said  Noel  stolidly. 

"  What  do  you  say  ? "  exclaimed  she ;  "  but  I  see 
what  we  are  coming  to.  This  amiable  confession  is  the 
preface.  To-morrow  you  will  be  very  much  embar- 
rassed ;  and  the  day  after  to-morrow  you  will  be  ruined ! 
Avarice  is  the  name  of  the  complaint  that  afflicts  you, 
my  friend.  Do  you  not  feel  a  pang  of  remorse  for  all  the 
money  you  have  lavished  upon  me  ?  " 

"Selfish  woman !  "  murmured  Noel,  angrily. 


94  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Truly,"  continued  the  lady,  "  I  pity  you,  unfortu- 
nate lover!  Shall  I  get  up  a  subscription  for  you?  In 
your  place,  I  should  issue  an  appeal  to  the  benevolent." 

Noel  lost  his  temper,  in  spite  of  his  resolution. 

"  You  think  it  a  laughing  matter  ?  "  asked  he  bitterly. 
"  Well,  understand  me,  Juliette ;  I  am  at  the  end  of  my 
expedients.  I  have  exhausted  my  resources!  I  am 
ruined ! " 

The  eyes  of  the  young  woman  brightened.  She  fe- 
garded  her  lover  tenderly. 

"  Oh,  if  'twas  only  true !  "  said  she.  "  If  I  could  only 
believe  you ! " 

The  advocate  was  wounded  to  the  heart. 

"  She  believes  me,"  thought  he ;  "  and  she  is  glad :  she 
detests  me." 

He  was  deceived.  Madame  Juliette  never  loved  him 
so  well  as  at  that  moment.  The  idea  that  he  had  loved 
her  to  the  extent  of  ruining  himself  for  her,  without' 
even  a  reproach  for  her  extravagance,  almost  trans- 
ported her  with  joy.  It  was  but  for  a  moment,  however. 
She  became  immediately  incredulous.  The  expression 
of  her  eyes  changed  quickly. 

"  What  a  fool  you  must  think  me,  to  come  with  your 
romantic  stories  of  ruin,  and  expect  me  to  believe  them ! 
No,  no,  my  friend ;  such  men  as  you  do  not  ruin  them- 
selves. It  is  your  vain  young  coxcombs  and  your 
drivelling  old  dotards  who  ruin  themselves  for  their 
mistresses.  You  are  a  very  gay  young  spark;  but  you 
never  lose  your  senses.  You  are  very  grave  and  prudent, 
and,  above  all,  very  strong." 

"  Not  with  you,"  murmured  Noel. 

"  Pshaw !  then  leave  me  alone.  You  know  well  what 
you  are  about.  Instead  of  a  heart,  you  have  a  calculating 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  95 

machine.  You  have  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  and  appraised 
me.  You  have  said  to  yourself,  '  I  can  afford  to  pay  this 
passion  so  much ; '  and  you  hold  yourself  to  your  word. 
"It  is  an  investment,  like  any  other,  in  which  one  re- 
ceives a  certain  amount  of  interest  agreed  upon.  You 
are  capable  of  all  the  folly  and  extravagance  in  the 
world  that  does  not  go  beyond  your  limit  of  four  thou- 
sand francs  a  month!  If  it  runs  twenty  sous  over  the 
amount  fixed,  you  take  up  your  heart  and  your  hat,  and 
carry  them  somewhere  else." 

"  It  is  true,"  answered  Noel,  coolly.  "  I  know  how  to 
count;  and  that  accomplishment  is  very  useful  to  me 
now,  since  it  enables  me  to  know  how  and  where  I  have 
spent  my  fortune." 

"  Do  you  really  know  ?  "  sneered  Juliette. 

"  And  I  can  tell  you,"  continued  he.  "  At  first,  you 
were  not  exacting;  but  the  appetite  came  with  eating. 
You  wished  for  luxury ;  you  had  it ;  splendid  furniture ; 
I  gave  it:  extravagant  toilettes,  a  house  in  the  Rue 
Provence,  with  a  marble  staircase  in  front,  a  carriage,  a 
pair  of  English  horses :  I  responded,  I  denied  you  noth- 
ing. You  had  every  thing  you  desired.  I  speak  not  of  a 
thousand  fantasies.  I  include  neither  this  Chinese  cabi- 
net nor  the  two  dozen  bracelets.  The  total  is  four  hun- 
dred thousand  francs !  " 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  As  one  can  be  who  has  had  that  amount,  and  has 
it  no  longer." 

"  Four  hundred  thousand  francs,  just  ?  Are  there  no 
centimes?" 

"  No." 

"  There,  my  dear  friend,  I  will  present  you  with  the 
bills  duly  receipted ;  and  you  will  be  satisfied." 


96  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  entrance  of  the  waiting  woman  with  the  tea-tray 
interrupted  this  amorous  duet,  of  which  Noel  had  ex- 
perienced more  than  one  repetition. 

Madame  Juliette  Chaffour  was  a  Parisienne.  She 
was  born  about  1839,  in  the  highest  apartment  of  a 
house  in  the  Faubourg  Montmarte.  Her  mother  was  a 
beauty  of  some  note  in  her  day.  Her  father  was  un- 
known. Her  infancy  was  a  long  alternation  of  beatings 
and  caresses,  equally  furious ;  and  she  was  fed  on  sugar 
plums,  sour  wine,  and  damaged  fruit:  so  that  her 
stomach  was  as  depraved  as  her  intelligence.  At  twelve 
years  old,  she  was  meagre  as  a  nail,  and  green  as  a  June 
apple ;  and,  as  for  her  mental  training,  a  strict  moralist 
would  have  considered  her  a  precocious  little  wretch, 
totally  destitute  of  principle. 

As  she  gave  no  promise  of  beauty,  she  was  placed  in 
a  store,  to  study  the  art  and  mystery  of  selling  ribbons 
and  laces ;  when  a  wealthy  and  highly  respectable  gen- 
tleman,— an  old  friend  of  her  mamma's  many  years  ago, 
— accorded  her  his  protection.  This  prudent  old  gen- 
tleman was  a  connoisseur,  and  detected  the  promise  of 
charms,  where  others  saw  only  indications  of  ugliness. 
He  sent  his  protege  to  a  school,  to  receive  a  varnish  of 
education.  Here  she  learned  to  read  and  write  very 
badly,  to  play  the  piano  tolerably,  and  to  waltz  to  such 
perfection  that  she  turned  the  head  of  a  foreign  am- 
bassador, whom  her  old  protector  brought  to  see  her  at 
one  of  his  visits. 

When  the  old  gentleman  came  to  take  her  from  the 
seminary,  he  found  she  had  been  taken  away  already, 
by  a  young  artist,  who  offered  her  half  of  every  thing 
he  possessed ;  that  is  to  say,  nothing.  At  the  end  of  three 
months,  she  quitted  the  studio  of  her  artistic  admirer, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  97 

with  her  entire  wardrobe  tied  up  in  a  cotton  pocket 
handkerchief. 

During  the  four  years  which  followed,  she  led  a  pre- 
carious existence, — sometimes  with  little  else  to  live 
upon  but  Hope,  which  never  wholly  abandons  a  young 
girl  who  knows  she  has  good  eyes.  By  turns  she  sunk 
to  the  bottom,  and  again  rose  to  the  surface  of  the 
stream  down  which  she  was  being  carried.  But  she  was 
reckless  and  imprudent.  Twice  had  fortune  in  fresh 
gloves  come  knocking  at  her  door ;  and  she  had  not  the 
sense  to  seize  him  by  the  skirt  of  his  paletot. 

With  the  assistance  of  a  captain  of  a  coasting  vessel, 
she  managed  to  get  an  appearance  at  a  small  theatre, 
and  acquitted  herself  adroitly  enough  in  the  trifling 
roles  entrusted  to  her ;  when  Noel,  by  the  merest  acci- 
dent, encountered  her.  He  loved  her;  and  she  became 
his  mistress. 

The  advocate  did  not  displease  her  at  first.  She  ad- 
mired him  for  his  polite  manners,  his  distinguished  air, 
his  learning,  his  knowledge  of  the  world,  his  contempt 
for  all  that  was  unworthy,  and,  above  all,  for  his  un- 
alterable patience,  which  nothing  could  tire.  Soon,  how- 
ever, she  began  to  discover  qualities  to  her  less  admira- 
ble. He  was  not  amusing.  He  never  made  her  laugh. 
He  absolutely  refused  to  accompany  her  to  any  of  the 
numerous  places  of  amusement  where  gaiety  puts  on 
her  holiday  garb  and  laughter  reigns  supreme.  For  ab- 
solute lack  of  employment,  she  began  to  squander 
money ;  and,  in  proportion  to  the  gratification  of  her  ex- 
travagant desires  and  the  sacrifices  made  by  her  lover, 
her  aversion  to  him  increased. 

She  rendered  him  the  most  miserable  of  men,  and 
treated  him  like  a  very  dog;  and  this  not  from  natural 


98  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

badness  of  disposition,  but  from  a  firm  belief  in  the  pre- 
cept,— the  only  one  ever  taught  her  by  her  mamma, — 
that  a  woman  is  beloved  in  proportion  to  the  trouble  she 
causes  and  the  mischief  she  does. 

Juliette  was  not  wicked;  and  she  believed  she  had 
much  to  complain  of.  The  dream  of  her  life  was  to  be 
loved  in  a  way  which  she  felt,  but  could  scarcely  have 
explained.  She  had  never  been  to  her  lover  more  than  a 
plaything.  She  understood  this;  and,  as  she  was 
naturally  proud,  the  idea  enraged  her.  She  dreamed  of 
a  lover  who  would  be  devoted  enough  to  make  a  real 
sacrifice  for  her, — who  would  descend  to  her  level,  in- 
stead of  attempting  to  raise  her  to  his.  She  despaired 
of  meeting  such  a  man. 

Noel's  extravagance,  instead  of  melting  her  heart, 
hardened  it.  She  believed  he  was  very  rich,  and  actually 
resented  his  liberality  as  the  insolence  of  wealth;  for, 
strange  to  say,  in  spite  of  her  extravagance,  she  cared 
little  for  money.  Noel  would  have  been  an  immense 
gainer  by  an  outspoken  frankness  that  would  have 
shown  her  clearly  his  situation.  He  lost  her  love  by 
the  delicacy  of  his  dissimulation,  that  left  her  ignorant 
of  the  sacrifices  he  was  making  for  her. 

Noel  adored  Juliette.  Until  the  fatal  day  he  saw  her, 
he  had  been  a  sage,  a  model  of  prudence  and  integrity. 
This,  his  first  and  only  passion,  burned  him  up;  and, 
from  the  disaster,  he  saved  only  appearances.  The  four 
walls  remained  standing;  but  the  interior  of  the  edifice 
was  destroyed.  Even  heroes  have  their  vulnerable  parts. 
Achilles  was  wounded  in  the  heel.  The  most  artfully 
constructed  armor  has  a  joint  somewhere.  By  Juliette, 
Noel  was  assailable;  and  her  entrance  made  way  for 
every  thing.  For  her,  in  four  years,  this  model  young 
man,  this  advocate  of  the  immaculate  reputation,  this 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  99 

austere  moralist,  had  wasted  not  only  his  own  fortune, 
but  Madame  Gerdy's  also. 

He  loved  Juliette  madly,  without  reflection,  without 
measure,  with  his  eyes  shut.  Near  her,  he  forgot  all  pru- 
dence, and  became  reckless  of  consequences.  In  her 
boudoir,  he  dropped  his  mask  of  habitual  dissimula- 
tion, and  his  vices  displayed  themselves  at  ease,  as  his 
limbs  in  a  bath. 

He  felt  himself  so  powerless  against  her  that  he  never 
essayed  to  struggle.  She  possessed  him.  Once  or  twice 
he  had  attempted  to  firmly  oppose  her  caprices ;  but  she 
had  made  him  pliable  as  the  osier.  Under  the  dark 
glances  of  this  girl,  his  strongest  resolutions  melted 
more  quickly  than  snow  beneath  the  April  sun.  She 
tortured  him ;  but  she  had  also  the  power  to  repay  him 
for  all, — by  a  word,  a  smile,  a  single  tear,  or  a  caress. 

Away  from  the  enchantress,  reason  returned  at  inter- 
vals; and,  in  his  lucid  moments,  he  said  to  himself, 
"  She  does  not  love  me.  She  is  amusing  herself  with  my 
folly,  and  laughing  at  my  infatuation."  But  her  love 
had  taken  such  deep  root  in  his  heart  that  he  could  not 
pluck  it  forth.  He  made  himself  a  monster  of  jealousy, 
to  torture  him  still  more,  and  was  constantly  occupied 
in  arguments  within  himself  respecting  her  fidelity.  But 
he  never  had  the  courage  to  declare  his  suspicions.  "  I 
should  either  have  to  leave  her,"  thought  he,  "  or  ac- 
cept every  thing  in  the  future."  At  the  idea  of  a  separa- 
tion from  her,  he  trembled,  and  felt  his  passion  strong 
enough  to  compel  him  to  submit  to  the  lowest  indignity. 
He  preferred  even  fiis  desolating  doubts  to  a  still  more 
dreadful  certainty. 

The  presence  of  the  maid  who  took  a  considerable 
time  in  arranging  the  tea-table  gave  Noel  an  opportunity 
to  recover  himself.  He  looked  at  Juliette ;  and  his  anger 


ioo  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

took  flight.  Already  he  began  to  fear  he  had  been  a  lit- 
tle cruel  to  her. 

When  Charlotte  retired,  he  came  and  took  a  seat  on 
the  divan  beside  his  mistress,  and  attempted  to  put  his 
arms  round  her. 

"  Come,"  said  he  in  a  caressing  tone,  "  you  have  been 
angry  enough, for  this  evening.  If  I  have  done  wrong, 
you  have  punished  me  sufficiently.  Make  peace,  and 
embrace  me."  She  repulsed  him  angrily,  and  said  in  a 
dry  tone, — 

"  Let  me  alone !  How  many  times  must  I  repeat,  that 
I  am  suffering  from  nervousness  this  evening." 

"  Suffer,  my  love  ?  what  ails  you  ?  shall  I  bring  the 
doctor?" 

"  There  is  no  need.  I  know  the  nature  of  my  malady. 
It  is  called  ennui ;  and  the  doctor  cannot  cure  me." 

Noel  rose  with  a  discouraged  air,  and  took  his  place 
at  the  other  side  of  the  tea-table,  facing  her.  His  resig- 
nation bespoke  how  habituated  he  had  become  to  these 
rebuffs.  Juliette  snubbed  him ;  but  he  returned  always, 
like  the  poor  dog  who  lies  in  wait  for  the  instant  when 
his  caresses  may  not  be  inopportune. 

"  You  have  told  me  very  often,  during  the  last  few 
months,  that  you  feel  ennui.  What  have  I  done  to 
you?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Well,  why  then  "—  ? 

"  My  life  is  nothing  more  than  a  long  imprisonment," 
answered  the  young  woman  with  flashing  eyes.  "  Do 
you  think  it  very  amusing  to  be  shut  up  here  all  alone 
until  you  come  in,  like  a  mute  at  a  funeral?  Look  at 
yourself, — sad,  disagreeable,  restless,  suspicious,  de- 
voured by  a  prying  jealousy !  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  101 

"  Your  reception  of  me,  my  dear  Juliette,  this  even- 
ing," ventured  Noel,  "  was  enough  to  extinguish  gaiety 
and  freeze  good  humor;  and,  as  for  my  jealousy,  one 
fears  where  one  loves." 

"  Thank  you,  monsieur.  I  am  the  occasion  of  your 
sad  looks  and  grave  speeches!  Go,  then,  and  find  an- 
other woman  expressly  formed  to  suit  your  ideas,  and, 
if  you  cannot  find  her,  have  one  made  to  order;  and, 
when  you  get  her,  then  shut  her  up  in  a  cave,  and  show 
her  to  yourself  once  a  day,  after  dinner,  with  the  des- 
sert, when  the  champagne  is  on  the  table.  That's  your 
idea  of  happiness,  is  it?  " 

"  I  should  have  done  better  not  to  have  come,"  mur- 
mured the  advocate. 

"  Indeed !  That  I  might  remain  alone  here,  without 
any  thing  to  occupy  me  except  a  cigarette  and  a  stupid 
book,  that  I  go  to  sleep  over?  Do  you  call  this  an  ex- 
istence, even,  never  to  budge  out  of  the  house  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  life  of  all  the  honest  women  that  I  know," 
replied  the  Advocate,  dryly. 

"  Then  I  cannot  compliment  them  on  their  enjoyment. 
They  merit  all  the  respect  they  gain  by  being  honest 
women,  if  they  have  no  more  amusement  than  that. 
Happily  for  me,  however,  I  am  not  an  honest  woman ; 
although  I  might  as  well  be,  housed  up  more  closely 
than  the  wife  of  a  Turk,  with  your  sorrowful  face  for 
my  only  distraction." 

"  You  housed  up  ?  You  live  in  a  prison,  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I !  "  continued  Juliette,  with  eager  opposition. 
"  Let  us  see.  Have  you  ever  brought  one  of  your  friends 
here  ?  No.  Monsieur  hides  me.  When  have  you  offered 
me  your  arm  for  a  promenade  ?  Never.  Monsieur's  dig- 
nity would  be  sullied,  if  he  were  seen  in  my  company.  I 


102  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

have  a  carriage.  Have  you  entered  it  three  times  ?  Per- 
haps; but  then  you  pulled  up  the  blinds!  I  ride  out 
alone.  I  promenade  alone." 

"  Always  the  same  refrain,"  interrupted  Noel,  his  an- 
ger beginning  to  rise,  "  without  ceasing  these  discon- 
tented complainings,  as  if  you  had  yet  to  learn  the  rea- 
son why  this  state  of  things  exists." 

"  I  am  not  ignorant,"  pursued  the  young  girl,  "  that 
you  blush  for  me.  I  know,  at  the  same  time,  men  who 
carry  higher  crests  than  yours  who  willingly  show  them- 
selves by  the  side  of  their  mistresses.  Monsieur  trembles 
for  the  fine  name  of  Gerdy  that  I  am  tarnishing ;  whilst 
the  sons  of  the  greatest  families  in  France  are  not  afraid 
to  proclaim  their  preferences  to  all  the  world." 

This  home-thrust  enraged  Noel,  to  the  great  delight 
of  Madame  Chaffour. 

"  Enough  of  these  recriminations ! "  cried  he,  rising. 
"  If  I  hide  our  relations,  it  is  because  I  am  constrained 
to  do  so.  Of  what  do  you  complain?  You  have  unre- 
strained liberty ;  and  you  use  it,  too,  and  so  largely  that 
your  actions  altogether  escape  me.  You  accuse  me  of 
creating  a  vacuum  around  you.  I  bring  no  friends  to 
visit  you.  Am  I  to  blame  for  the  circumstances  of  my 
position?  My  friends  have  been  accustomed  to  see  me 
in  a  home  whose  aspect  speaks  of  modest  competence, 
not  unrestrained  extravagance.  Can  I  bring  them  here, 
to  be  astonished  by  your  luxury,  by  this  suite  of  apart- 
ments,— a  monument  of  my  folly  ?  Would  they  not  in- 
quire of  me,  from  whom  have  I  taken  the  money  that 
maintains  this  mad  profusion? 

"  I  may  have  a  preference :  granted ;  but  I  have  no 
right  to  throw  away  a  fortune  which  is  not  my  own. 
The  day  it  becomes  known  that  my  folly  enables  you 
to  pursue  your  career  of  extravagance,  my  future  pros- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  103 

pects  are  destroyed.  What  client  would  confide  his  in- 
terests to  an  imbecile  who  permitted  himself  to  be  ruined 
by  the  woman  whose  toilettes  are  the  talk  of  Paris?  I 
am  not  a  noble.  I  have  neither  an  historical  name  to  tar- 
nish nor  an  immense  fortune  to  lose.  I  am  Noel  Gerdy, 
advocate.  My  reputation  is  all  'that  I  possess.  It  is  a 
false  reputation,  you  will  say.  Be  it  so.  Such  as  it  is,  it 
is  necessary  to  me ;  and  I  will  endeavor  to  keep  it." 

Juliette  knew  Noel  by  heart.  She  saw  that  she  had 
gone  far  enough. 

"  My  friend,"  said  she,  tenderly,  "  I  do  not  wish  to 
pain  you.  You  must  be  indulgent.  I  am  horribly  ner- 
vous this  evening." 

This  simple  change  of  tone  delighted  the  advocate, 
and  sufficed  almost  to  calm  his  anger. 

"  You  drive  me  mad  with  your  injustice,"  said  he. 
"  While  I  exhaust  my  imagination  to  find  what  can  be 
agreeable  to  you,  you  are  perpetually  attacking  my 
gravity;  and  forty-eight  hours  have  not  elapsed  since 
we  were  plunged  in  all  the  extravagance  of  the  carnival. 
To  please  you,  I  kept  the  fete  of  Shrove  Tuesday  like 
a  student.  I  took  you  to  the  theatre ;  I  put  on  a  domino, 
and  accompanied  you  to  the  ball  at  the  opera,  and  even 
invited  two  of  my  friends  to  sup  with  us." 

"  It  was  very  gay  indeed,"  answered  the  young  girl, 
making  a  wry  face. 

"  So  it  seemed  to  me." 

"  Did  it,  indeed  ?  Then  you  are  not  difficult  to  please. 
We  went  to  the  Vaudeville,  it  is  true,  but  separately,  as 
we  always  do, — I  alone  above,  you  below.  At  the  ball, 
you  looked  the  very  picture  of  misery ;  and,  at  the  sup- 
per-table, your  friends  were  as  melancholy  as  a  pair  of 
owls.  I  obeyed  your  orders,  by  affecting  hardly  to  know 
you ;  and,  by  the  way,  although  you  drank  like  a  sponge, 


104  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

I  could  not  see  that  you  became  a  whit  more  cheerful, 
even  when  you  were  drunk." 

"  A  proof,"  interrupted  Noel,  "  that  we  ought  not  to 
force  our  tastes.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else." 

He  took  a  few  steps  in  the  room,  and  looked  at  his 
watch. 

"  An  hour  gone  already,"  said  he.  "  My  love,  I  must 
leave  you." 

"How,  already?" 

"  Yes,  to  my  great  regret :  my  mother  is  dangerously 
sick." 

He  displayed,  and  counted  on  the  table,  the  bankbills 
given  him  by  Pere  Tabaret. 

"  My  petite  Juliette,"  said  he,  "  here  are  not  eight 
thousand  francs,  but  ten  thousand.  You  will  not  see  me 
again  for  some  days." 

"  You  are  going  to  leave  Paris,  then  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  my  entire  time  will  be  absorbed  by  an  affair 
of  immense  importance.  If  I  succeed  in  my  undertak- 
ing, mignonne,  our  future  happiness  is  assured ;  and  you 
will  soon  see  how  well  I  love  you !  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Noel,  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  I  cannot,  now." 

"  Tell  me,  I  beseech  you,"  pleaded  the  young  girl, 
hanging  round  his  neck,  raising  herself  upon  the  points 
of  her  toes  to  approach  her  lips  to  his.  The  advocate 
embraced  her ;  and  his  resolution  seemed  to  waver. 

"  No,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  I  am  serious,  I  cannot. 
Of  what  use  to  awaken  in  you  hopes  that  may  never  be 
realized  ?  Now,  my  cherished,  hear  me  well.  Whatever 
may  happen,  understand,  you  must  under  no  pretext 
whatever  again  come  near  my  house,  as  you  had  once 
the  imprudence  to  do.  Do  not  even  write  to  me.  By  dis- 
obeying, you  may  do  me  an  irreparable  injury.  If  any 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  105 

accident  occurs,  send  for  me  by  this  old  extortioner, 
Clergeot.  I  ought  to  have  a  visit  from  him  to-morrow, 
or  the  day  after ;  he  holds  notes  of  mine." 

Juliette  recoiled,  menacing  Noel  with  a  mutinous 
gesture. 

"  You  will  not  tell  me  any  thing?  "  insisted  she. 

"  Not  this  evening ;  but  shortly  I  will  tell  you  every 
thing,"  replied  the  advocate  embarrassed  by  the  pierc- 
ing glances  of  her  dark  eyes. 

"  Always  some  mystery ! "  cried  Juliette,  piqued  at 
the  want  of  success  attending  her  blandishments. 

"  This  will  be  the  last,  I  swear  to  you !  " 

"  Noel,  my  good  man,"  said  the  young  girl  in  a  seri- 
ous tone,  "  you  are  hiding  something  from  me :  I  know 
it;  I  read  it  in  your  face.  For  several  days, — how  I 
cannot  precisely  explain, — you  have  been  completely 
changed." 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Juliette — " 

"  No,  swear  nothing ;  I  should  not  believe  you.  Only 
remember,  no  attempt  at  deceiving  me,  I  forewarn  you. 
I  am  a  woman  to  revenge  myself." 

The  advocate  evidently  was  ill  at  ease. 

"  The  affair  in  question,"  stammered  he,  "  can  as  well 
fail  as  succeed." 

"  Enough !  "  interrupted  Juliette ;  "  your  will  shall  be 
obeyed.  I  promise  that.  All  right,  monsieur.  Good- 
night. I  am  going  to  bed." 

The  door  was  not  shut  upon  Noel  when  Charlotte 
was  installed  on  the  divan,  near  her  mistress.  Had  the 
advocate  been  listening  at  the  door,  he  would  have  heard 
Madame  Juliette  say, — 

"  What  a  scene !  No,  Charlotte,  I  can  endure  him  no 
longer.  I  am  afraid  of  him.  He  is  capable  of  killing 
me !  I  can  see  it  in  his  glance." 


io6  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  soubrette  vainly  tried  to  defend  Noel;  but  her 
mistress  did  not  listen.  She  murmured, — 

"  Why  does  he  absent  himself  ?  and  what  is  he  plot- 
ting? Some  mischief,  I  am  sure.  An  absence  of  eight 
days !  It  is  suspicious.  Can  he  by  any  chance  be  going 
to  be  married?  Ah!  if  I  knew  it.  You  weary  me  to 
death,  my  good  Noel,  with  your  gravity  and  your  jeal- 
ousy; and  I  am  determined  to  break  with  you  one  of 
these  fine  mornings ;  but  I  cannot  permit  you  to  quit  me 
first.  I  cannot  allow  you  to  get  married,  and  dismiss  me. 
No,  no,  my  mysterious  friend,  I  must  have  some  in- 
formation about  your  business  of  immense  importance." 

But  Noel  did  not  listen  at  the  door.  He  left  the  house 
in  haste,  descended  the  Rue  Provence  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, gained  the  Rue  St.  Lazare,  and  entered  as  he  had 
departed, — by  the  secret  door.  He  had  hardly  reached 
his  study,  when  the  nurse  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  woman,  "  in  the  name  of 
heaven,  answer  me !  " 

He  opened  the  door,  and  said  with  impatience, 
"What  is  it  now?" 

"  Monsieur,"  stammered  the  servant  in  tears,  "  this  is 
the  third  time  I  have  called,  and  you  have  not  answered. 
Come,  I  implore  you.  I  am  afraid  madame  is  dying !  " 

He  followed  the  nurse  to  Madame  Gerdy's  chamber. 
He  must  have  found  her  terribly  changed ;  for  he  could 
not  restrain  a  movement  of  terror. 

The  sick  woman  struggled  painfully  beneath  her  cov- 
erings. Her  face  was  of  a  livid  paleness,  as  though 
there  was  not  a  drop  of  blood  in  her  veins ;  and  her  eyes, 
which  glittered  with  a  sombre  fire,  seemed  covered  with 
a  film.  Her  hair,  loose  and  disordered,  falling  over  her 
cheeks  and  upon  her  shoulders,  contributed  to  her  wild 
appearance.  She  uttered  from  time  to  time  a  groan 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  107 

hardly  audible,  or  murmured  unintelligible  words.  At 
times,  a  fiercer  pang  than  common  forced  from  her  a 
cry  of  anguish.  She  did  not  recognize  Noel. 

"  You  see,  monsieur,"  said  the  nurse. 

"  Yes.  Who  would  have  believed  her  malady  could 
advance  so  rapidly  ?  Quick,  run  to  Dr.  Herve !  he  will 
come  immediately,  when  you  tell  him  it  is  for  me." 

And  he  seated  himself  in  the  arm-chair,  facing  the 
sick  woman. 

Doctor  Herve  was  one  of  Noel's  friends, — an  old 
school-fellow,  his  companion  of  the  Quartier  Latin,  in 
his  student  days.  The  doctor's  history  differed  in  noth- 
ing from  that  of  most  young  men,  who,  without  fortune, 
friends,  or  influence,  enter  upon  the  practice  of  the  most 
difficult,  the  most  hazardous  of  professions  in  Paris. 

A  man  of  remarkable  courage  and  self-reliance,  con- 
scious of  possessing  superior  talent,  Herve  determined 
neither  to  exile  himself  in  a  country  village,  nor  place 
himself  under  the  control  of  some  unprincipled  dealer 
in  drugs,  as  many  of  his  companions  were  reduced  to 
the  necessity  of  doing,  to  gain  a  bare  subsistence.  "  I 
will  remain  in  Paris,"  said  he  to  himself ;  "  I  will  there 
become  celebrated.  I  shall  be  surgeon-in-chief  of  the 
hospital,  and  wear  the  cross  of  the  legion  of  honor." 

To  enter  upon  this  path  of  thorns,  leading  to  an  arch 
of  triumph,  the  future  academician  ran  himself  twenty 
thousand  francs  in  debt  to  furnish  a  small  office.  Here, 
armed  with  a  patience  which  nothing  could  fatigue,  an 
iron  resolution  that  nothing  could  subdue,  he  struggled 
and  waited.  Only  those  who  have  experienced  it  can 
understand  what  sufferings  are  endured  by  the  poor, 
proud  man  who  waits  in  a  black  coat,  freshly  shaven, 
with  smiling  lips,  while  he  is  starving  of  hunger.  The 
refinements  of  civilization  have  inaugurated  punish- 


io8  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ments  compared  to  which  the  torture  practised  on  his 
victim  by  the  savage  Indian  is  mercy. 

The  unknown  physician  must  begin  by  attending  the 
sick  beds  of  the  poor  who  cannot  pay  him,  becoming 
known  to  the  mass  of  human  beings  who  take  advan- 
tage of  the  needs  of  their  fellow-men.  He  is  called  in  by 
a  citizen  of  the  better  class,  to  save  the  expense  of  em- 
ploying a  more  thriving  practitioner.  The  sick  man  is 
profuse  in  promises,  while  he  is  in  danger;  but,  when 
cured,  he  recovers  the  use  of  his  faculties  and  forgets 
the  doctor's  fee. 

After  seven  years  of  heroic  perseverence,  Herve  ob- 
tained at  last  a  circle  of  patients  who  paid  his  fees.  Dur- 
ing this  time,  he  had  lived  and  paid  the  exorbitant  in- 
terest of  his  debt ;  but  he  had  succeeded  at  last.  Three 
or  four  pamphlets  and  a  prize  won  without  much  in- 
trigue, attracted  public  attention  to  him.  He  became  the 
great,  the  famous  physician  of  Paris. 

But  he  is  no  longer  the  brave  young  enthusiast,  full 
of  the  faith  and  hope  that  attended  him  in  his  visits  to 
the  poor,  whose  lives  he  saved  without  other  payment 
than  their  prayers.  He  comes  now  to  the  rich  man's 
sick  bed,  stronger  and  more  self-reliant  than  ever,  it  is 
true,  but  neither  hoping  for  nor  rejoicing  in  success.  He 
had  used  up  those  feelings  in  the  days  when  he  had  not 
wherewith  to  pay  for  his  dinner.  For  his  great  fortune 
in  the  time  to  come,  he  had  paid  too  dearly  in  the  past ; 
and  now  to  attain  success  is  to  take  a  revenge.  At  thirty- 
five,  he  is  blase,  filled  with  disgust  at  the  deceptions  of 
the  world  and  believing  in  nothing.  Under  the  appear- 
ance of  universal  benevolence,  he  conceals  universal 
scorn.  His  finesse,  sharpened  by  the  grindstone  of  ad- 
versity, has  become  mischievous.  And,  while  he  sees 
through  all  disguises  worn  by  others,  he  hides  his  pene- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  109 

tration  carefully  under  a  mask  of  cheerful  good-nature 
and  jovial  lightness. 

But  he  was  good,  he  was  devout,  and  he  loved  his 
friends. 

He  arrived,  hardly  dressed,  so  great  had  been  his 
haste.  His  first  word  on  entering  was, — 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

Noel  pressed  his  hand  in  silence,  and  pointed  to  the 
bed. 

In  less  than  a  minute,  the  doctor  completed  his  ex- 
amination of  the  sick  woman,  and  returned  to  his  friend. 

"  What  has  happened  to  her  ?  "  demanded  he  shortly. 
"  It  is  necessary  I  should  know." 

The  advocate  started  at  this  question. 

"  Know  what?  "  stammered  he. 

"  All,"  answered  Herve.  "  This  is  a  case  of  encepha- 
lite.  I  cannot  be  mistaken  in  the  symptoms.  It  is  an 
uncommon  malady,  and  generally  fatal.  Even  when  the 
life  of  the  patient  is  saved,  the  functions  of  the  brain 
usually  remain  arrested.  Who  can  have  occasioned  this  ? 
There  is  no  local  injury  to  the  brain  or  its  bony  cover- 
ing. The  mischief  has  been  caused  by  some  violent 
emotion  of  the  soul, — a  shock,  the  intelligence  of  some 
catastrophe ! " 

Noel  interrupted  his  friend  by  a  gesture,  and  drew 
him  into  the  embrasure  of  the  window. 

"  Yes,  my  friend,"  said  he  in  a  low  tone,  "  Madame 
Gerdy  has  experienced  great  mental  suffering.  She  has 
been  tortured  by  remorse  for  crime,  and  apprehension 
of  discovery.  Listen,  Herve.  I  will  confide  to  your 
honor  and  our  friendship  a  secret.  Madame  Gerdy  is 
not  my  mother.  She  has  despoiled  me,  to  enrich  her 
son  with  my  fortune  and  my  name.  Three  weeks  have 
elapsed  since  my  discovery  of  this  unworthy  fraud.  This 


I  io  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

discovery  was  the  shock  you  have  suspected.  Since 
then,  she  has  been  dying  minute  by  minute." 

The  advocate  expected  some  exclamations  of  aston- 
ishment, some  questions  regarding  the  particulars  of 
this  singular  history,  from  his  friend;  but  the  doctor 
received  the  explanation  without  remark,  as  a  simple 
statement,  indispensable  to  his  understanding  the  case. 

"  Three  weeks,"  murmured  he ;  "  that  explains  every 
thing.  Has  she  appeared  to  suffer  much  during  the 
time?" 

"  She  complained  of  violent  pains  in  the  head,  dim- 
ness of  sight,  and  a  noise  as  of  the  surging  of  water 
in  her  ears;  but  do  not  conceal  any  thing  from  me, 
Herve ;  is  there  serious  danger?  " 

"  So  serious,  my  friend,  that  I  am  undertaking  a 
hopeless  task  in  attempting  a  cure." 

"  Ah !  good  heaven !  " 

"  You  asked  for  the  truth,  my  friend ;  and  I  have  had 
the  courage  to  answer,  because  you  tell  me  this  poor 
woman  is  not  your  mother.  Nothing  short  of  a  miracle 
can  save  her ;  but  this  miracle  we  may  prepare  for.  And 
now  to  work." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ELEVEN  o'clock  was  striking  at  the  Terminus  of 
St.  Lazare,  when  Pere  Tabaret  left  his  house,  stunned 
and  bewildered  by  the  flood  of  information  so  unex- 
pectedly poured  upon  him.  Having  been  obliged  to  re- 
strain himself  while  in  Noel's  presence,  his  sudden  re- 
lease to  the  freedom  of  speech  and  deportment  was  de- 
lightful. On  gaining  the  street,  he  reeled  like  a  drunk- 
ard when  he  first  breathes  the  open  air,  after  leaving  the 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  in 

heated  atmosphere  of  the  wine  shop,  so  intense  was  the 
effect  of  the  sudden  revelations,  just  made  by  his  friend 
Noel. 

Notwithstanding  his  haste  to  arrive  at  M.  Daburon's, 
he  did  not  take  a  carriage.  He  felt  the  necessity  of  walk- 
ing. He  was  one  of  those  to  whose  brain  exercise 
brings  clearness.  As  he  went  along,  his  ideas  clashed 
and  shifted  themselves,  as  grains  of  wheat  when  shaken 
in  a  basket.  Without  hastening  his  pace,  he  gained  the 
Rue  Chaussee  d'Antin,  crossed  the  boulevard  with  its 
resplendent  cafes,  and  turned  into  the  Rue  Richelieu. 

He  walked  along,  unconscious  of  external  objects, 
tripping  and  stumbling  over  the  inequalities  of  the  side- 
walk, or  slipping  on  the  greasy  pavement.  If  he  fol- 
lowed the  proper  road,  it  was  a  purely  mechanical  im- 
pulse that  guided  him.  His  mind  was  following  through 
the  darkness  the  mysterious  thread  of  which  he  had 
seized  the  almost  imperceptible  end  at  Jonchere. 

Persons  laboring  under  strong  emotion  frequently, 
without  knowing  it,  utter  their  thoughts  aloud,  little 
thinking  into  what  indiscreet  ears  their  revelations  or 
disjointed  phrases  may  fall.  At  every  step,  we  meet  in 
Paris  people  babbling  to  themselves,  and  unconsciously 
confiding  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven  their  dearest  se- 
crets, like  cracked  vases  that  allow  their  contents  to 
steal  away.  Often  the  passers  by  take  these  eccentric 
monologuists  for  madmen.  Often  the  idle  or  curious  fol- 
low, and  amuse  themselves  by  receiving  these  strange 
confidences.  It  was  an  indiscretion  of  this  kind  which 
told  the  ruin  of  Riscara  the  rich  banker.  Lambreth,  the 
assassin  of  the  Rue  Venise,  betrayed  himself  in  a  simi- 
lar manner. 

"  What  a  vein !  "  said  Pere  Tabaret.  "  What  an  in- 
credible piece  of  good  fortune!  Gevrol  has  well  said, 


H2  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

that,  after  all,  the  cleverest  agent  of  the  police  is  chance. 
Who  would  have  imagined  such  a  history?  I  was  not, 
however,  very  far  from  the  reality.  I  smelt  out  an  in- 
fant at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery !  But  who  would  have 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing  as  the  substitution? — an  old 
sensational  effect,  used  up  long  ago  in  plays  and  novels. 
This  is  a  striking  example  of  the  danger  of  following 
preconceived  ideas  in  police  investigation.  We  are  af- 
frighted at  unlikelihood ;  and,  as  in  this  case,  the  great- 
est unlikelihood  proves  often  to  be  the  truth.  We  re- 
treat before  the  absurd ;  and  the  absurd  turns  out  to  be 
the  very  thing  we  should  examine.  Every  thing  is  possi- 
ble. 

"  I  would  not  take  a  thousand  crowns  for  the  experi- 
ences of  this  evening.  I  shall  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone.  I  deliver  up  the  criminal ;  and  I  give  Noel  a  hearty 
clap  on  the  shoulder  to  recover  his  title  and  his  fortune. 
For  once  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  see  a  boy  raised  to 
fortune  from  the  school  of  adversity.  But,  pshaw !  he 
will  be  like  all  the  rest.  Prosperity  will  turn  his  head. 
Already  he  begins  to  prate  of  his  ancestors.  Poor  hu- 
manity !  "  he  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  "  It  is  my 
friend  Madame  Gerdy  who  has  astonished  me  most  of 
all, — a  woman  to  whom  I  would  have  given  absolution 
before  waiting  to  hear  confess ;  and  then  to  think  that  I 
was  on  the  point  of  asking  her  hand  in  marriage !  What 
a  narrow  escape !  B-r-r-r !  " 

At  this  thought,  the  old  fellow  shivered.  He  saw 
himself  married,  and  all  on  a  sudden  discovering  the 
antecedents  of  Madame  Tabaret,  becoming  mixed  up 
with  a  scandalous  prosecution,  compromised,  and  ren- 
dered ridiculous. 

"  When  I  think/'  he  went  on  laughing,  as  his 
thoughts  took  another  direction, — "  when  I  think  of 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  113 

my  worthy  Gevrol  running  after  the  man  with  the  ear- 
rings in  his  ears!  Ha,  ha!  Travel,  my  boy,  travel! 
Voyages  inform  youth.  How  vexed  he  will  be  when  he 
hears  of  this !  He  will  wish  me  dead.  I  must  jest  with 
him  a  little,  just  a  little.  I  cannot  help  it.  If  he  wishes 
to  do  me  any  injury,  M.  Daburon  must  protect  me. 
Talking  of  Daburon.  Am  I  not  going  to  take  a  thorn 
out  of  his  foot.  I  can  see  him  from  this  spot  opening 
his  eyes  like  saucers,  when  I  say  to  him,  '  I  have  the 
rascal ! '  This  investigation  will  bring  him  honor,  when 
all  the  credit  is  due  to  me.  He  will,  at  the  least,  receive 
the  cross  of  honor.  So  much  the  better.  He  will  come 
to  me  again,  this  judge.  If  he  is  asleep,  I  am  going  to 
give  him  an  agreeable  awaking.  How  he  will  over- 
power me  with  questions !  How  he  will  want  to  know 
the  end,  before  I  can  relate  the  beginning !  " 

Pere  Tabaret,  who  was  now  crossing  the  bridge  of  St. 
Pere's,  stopped  suddenly.  "  Hold !  "  said  he,  "  the  de- 
tails ?  I  have  not  got  them.  I  know  the  story  only  in 
the  gross." 

He  continued  his  walk,  and  resumed, — "  They  are 
right  at  the  office ;  I  am  too  hasty.  I  am  too  fond  of  ro- 
mancing, as  Gevrol  says.  When  I  was  with  Noel  I 
ought  to  have  cross-examined  him,  until  I  extracted 
from  him  all  those  little  points  of  evidence  which  now 
I  can  only  guess  at ;  but  I  was  carried  away.  I  drank 
in  his  words.  I  would  willingly  have  had  him  tell  the 
story  in  one  sentence.  But,  after  all,  it  is  but  natural. 
When  one  is  in  pursuit  of  a  stag,  he  does  not  stop  to 
shoot  a  blackbird.  Besides,  by  insisting  on  minute  par- 
ticulars, I  might  have  awakened  suspicions  in  Noel's 
mind,  and  led  him  to  discover  that  I  am  working  up  the 
case  for  the  Rue  Jerusalem.  To  be  sure,  I  do  not  blush 
for  my  connection  with  the  police;  I  am  even  vain  of 


114  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

it;  but  I  love  to  think  that  no  one  suspects  it, — to  see 
how  stupid  people  are  in  not  knowing  the  police  who 
protect  and  guard  them.  And  now  for  the  interview  ; 
for  here  we  are  at  the  end  of  our  journey." 

M.  Daburon  had  gone  to  bed,  but  had  given  orders  to 
his  servant;  so  that  Pere  Tabaret  had  but  to  give  his 
name,  to  be  conducted  to  the  magistrate's  sleeping-room. 

At  sight  of  his  amateur  agent,  the  judge  addressed 
him  quickly, — 

"  There  is  something  extraordinary !  What  have  you 
discovered  ?  have  you  got  a  clew  ?  " 

"  Better  than  that,"  answered  the  old  fellow,  smiling 
at  ease. 

"  Speak  quickly !  " 

"  I  have  got  the  culprit !  " 

Pere  Tabaret  ought  to  have  been  satisfied;  he  cer- 
tainly produced  an  effect.  The  judge  bounded  from  his 
bed., 

"  Already  ?  "  said  he.    "  Is  it  possible  ?  " 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  repeat  to  M.  the  judge  of  in- 
quiry that  I  know  the  author  of  the  crime  of  Jonchere." 

"  And  I,"  said  the  judge, — "  I  proclaim  you  the  most 
able  of  police  agents  past  or  future.  I  shall  certainly 
never  hereafter  undertake  an  investigation  without  your 
assistance." 

"  You  are  too  kind,  monsieur.  I  have  had  little  or 
nothing  to  do  in  the  matter.  The  discovery  is  due  to 
chance  alone." 

"  You  are  modest,  M.  Tabaret.  Chance  assists  only 
wise  men.  She  disdains  to  aid  the  stupid;  but  I  beg 
you  will  be  seated  and  talk." 

Then  with  a  lucidity  and  precision  of  which  few 
would  have  believed  him  capable,  the  old  fellow  repeated 
to  the  judge  all  of  Noel's  story.  He  repeated  from 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  115 

memory  the  extracts  from  the  letters,  almost  without 
changing  a  word. 

"  These  letters,"  added  he,  "  I  have  seen ;  and  I  have 
even  carried  off  one,  in  order  to  verify  the  writing. 
Here  it  is." 

"Yes,"  murmured  the  magistrate, — "yes,  M.  Tab- 
aret,  you  have  discovered  the  criminal.  The  evidence 
is  palpable,  even  to  the  blind.  Heaven  has  willed  this. 
Crime  engenders  crime.  The  misdeeds  of  the  father 
have  made  the  son  an  assassin." 

"  I  have  not  given  you  the  names,  monsieur,"  said 
Pere  Tabaret.  "  I  wished  first  to  hear  your  opinion 
of  the  evidence." 

"  Oh !  you  can  name  them,"  interrupted  the  judge 
with  a  certain  degree  of  animation.  "  If  ever  so  high 
in  position,  they  shall  not  escape  the  law.  A  French 
magistrate  never  hesitates." 

"  I  know  it,  monsieur ;  but  we  are  going  high  this 
time.  The  father  who  has  sacrificed  his  legitimate  to 
his  natural  son  is  the  Count  Rheteau  de  Commarin; 
and  the  assassin  of  the  Widow  Lerouge  is  the  natural 
son,  Albert  Vicomte  de  Commarin !  " 

Pere  Tabaret,  like  an  accomplished  artist,  had  uttered 
these  words  with  a  deliberate  emphasis,  expecting  con- 
fidently to  produce  a  great  impression.  His  attempt 
overshot  itself.  M.  Daburon  was  struck  with  stupor. 
He  remained  motionless,  his  eyes  dilated  with  astonish- 
ment. Mechanically  he  repeated  it,  like  a  strange  word, 
the  sense  of  which  he  was  trying  to  understand. 

"  Albert  de  Commarin !  Albert  de  Commarin !  " 

"  Yes,"  insisted  Pere  Tabaret,  "  the  noble  viscount. 
He  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  be  suspected,  I  know." 

But  he  perceived  the  alteration  of  the  judge's  face; 
and,  a  little  frightened,  he  approached  the  bed. 


n6  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"Are  you  unwell?"  he  asked. 

"  No,"  answered  Daburon,  without  knowing  what 
he  said.  "  I  am  very  well ;  but  the  surprise,  the  emo- 
tion,"— 

"  I  understand  that,"  said  the  old  fellow. 

"  I  wish  you  would  leave  me  for  a  few  minutes ;  but 
do  not  depart.  We  must  converse  at  some  length  on 
this  business.  Will  you  step  into  my  study?  There 
ought  to  be  a  fire  still  burning  there.  I  will  rejoin  you 
in  an  instant." 

Then  Daburon  rose  lightly  from  the  bed,  put  on  a 
dressing-gown,  and  seated  himself,  or  rather  fell,  into 
an  arm-chair.  His  face,  to  which  the  exercise  of  his 
austere  functions  had  given  the  immobility  of  marble, 
reflected  the  most  cruel  agitation;  while  his  eyes  be- 
trayed the  inward  agony  of  his  soul. 

The  name  of  Commarin,  suddenly  pronounced,  awak- 
ened in  him  the  most  sorrowful  recollections,  and  tore 
open  a  wound  but  badly  healed.  This  name  recalled  to 
him  an  event  which  had  rudely  extinguished  his  youth 
and  broken  his  life.  Involuntarily,  he  carried  his 
thoughts  back  to  this  epoch,  and  compelled  himself 
to  taste  again  all  its  bitterness. 

An  hour  ago,  it  had  seemed  to  him  far  removed,  and 
already  hidden  in  the  mists  of  the  past.  One  word  had 
sufficed  to  recall  it,  clear  and  distinct.  It  seemed  to  him 
now  that  this  event  with  which  he  connected  the  name 
of  Albert  de  Commarin  dated  from  yesterday,  instead 
of  which  two  years  had  elapsed. 

Pierre  Marie  Daburon  belonged  to  one  of  the  oldest 
families  of  Poitou.  Three  or  four  of  his  ancestors  had 
filled  successively  the  most  considerable  offices  in  the 
province.  Why,  then,  had  they  not  bequeathed  a  title 
and  their  arms  to  their  descendants  ? 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  117 

The  magistrate's  worthy  father  inhabited  an  ugly 
modern  castle;  but  it  was  surrounded  by  about  eight 
hundred  thousand  francs'  worth  of  the  best  land  in 
France.  His  mother  was  a  Cottevise-Luxe,  from  whom 
he  inherited  the  blood  of  the  highest  nobility  of  Poitou, 
one  of  the  most  exclusive  families  in  France,  as  every 
one  knows. 

When  he  was  appointed  a  judge  of  inquiry  in  Paris, 
his  parentage  opened  for  him  without  delay  five  or  six 
aristocratic  salons ;  and  he  was  not  slow  to  extend  his 
circle  of  acquaintance. 

He  possessed,  however,  few  of  the  qualifications  for 
social  success.  He  was  cold  and  grave  even  to  sadness, 
reserved  and  timid  to  excess.  His  mind  wanted  bril- 
liancy and  lightness ;  he  lacked  the  facility  of  repartee, 
and  the  amiable  art  of  conversing  without  a  subject, — 
which  is  almost  a  necessity  in  mixed  companies.  He 
could  neither  relate  a  bon  mot  nor  pay  a  compliment. 
Like  most  men  who  feel  deeply,  he  was  unable  to  trans- 
late his  impressions  immediately.  Reflection  was  neces- 
sary to  him ;  and  he  fell  back  upon  himself. 

To  compensate  for  these  defects  he  possessed  other 
qualities  more  solid, — nobility  of  sentiment,  strength  of 
character,  and  integrity  of  purpose.  Those  who  knew 
him  quickly  learned  to  esteem  his  sound  judgment,  his 
keen  sense  of  honor,  and  tq  discover  under  his  cold  ex- 
terior a  warm  heart,  an  excessive  sensibility,  and  a  deli- 
cacy almost  feminine.  In  a  word,  although  he  might  be 
eclipsed  by  the  wits  and  triflers  of  a  crowded  salon, 
he  charmed  all  hearts  in  a  smaller  circle,  where  he  felt 
warmed  by  the  purer  atmosphere  of  sympathy. 

He  accustomed  himself  to  go  abroad  a  great  deal. 
He  reasoned,  wisely  perhaps,  that  a  magistrate  can  make 
better  use  of  his  time  than  by  remaining  shut  up  in 


ii8  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

his  study,  in  company  with  books  of  law.  He  thought 
a  man,  to  be  a  judge,  ought  to  know  something  of 
mankind;  and,  with  that  belief,  he  entered  upon  the 
study  of  the  subject.  An  attentive  and  discreet  ob- 
server, he  examined  around  him  the  play  of  human 
interests  and  passions,  exercised  himself  in  disentang- 
ling and  manoeuvring  at  need  the  strings  of  the  pup- 
pets he  saw  moving  about  him.  Piece  by  piece,  so  to 
say,  he  labored  to  comprehend  the  working  of  the  com- 
plicated machine  called  society,  of  which  he  was  charged 
to  overlook  the  movements,  regulate  the  springs,  and 
preserve  the  healthful  action. 

All  on  a  sudden,  towards  the  commencement  of  the 
winter  of  1860  and  1861,  Daburon  disappeared.  His 
friends  sought  for  him ;  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
What  had  become  of  him  ?  Inquiry  resulted  in  the  dis- 
covery that  he  passed  nearly  all  his  evenings  at  Madame 
d'  Arlanges'  house.  The  surprise  was  as  great  as  it 
was  natural. 

This  dear  marquise  was,  or  rather  is, — for  she  is 
still  in  the  land  of  the  living, — a  person  rather  out  of 
date  and  rococo  in  the  dowagers  of  the  Princess  de 
Southenay's  circle.  She  is  surely  the  most  singular 
link  between  the  eighteenth  century  and  our  own.  How, 
and  by  what  marvelous  process  she  has  been  preserved 
such  as  we  see  her,  from  so  remote  an  age  to  the  pres- 
ent, is  a  more  puzzling  question  than  we  can  explain. 
Listening  to  her,  you  would  swear  that  she  was  yester- 
day at  one  of  the  queen's  soirees,  whose  passion  for 
cards  was  the  annoyance  of  Louis  XIV.,  at  whose  par- 
ties the  great  ladies  cheated  openly  in  emulation  of  each 
other. 

Manners,  language,  habits,  even  costume  she  pre- 
served them  all ;  and,  as  time  had  touched  them,  not  to 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  119 

beautit'y  but  to  disfigure,  the  effect  was  not  the  most 
pleasing.  A  glimpse  of  her  head-dress  is  more  than  a 
long  article  of  review  of  the  court  of  Louis  XIV. ;  an 
hour's  conversation,  more  than  a  volume  of  the  "  Con- 
fessions of  Madame  de  Maintenon." 

She  was  born  in  a  little  German  principality,  where 
her  parents  had  taken  refuge  from  their  wild  and  rebel- 
lious people..  She  had  been  nursed,  when  a  child,  on  the 
knees  of  old  Emigres,  in  a  salon  very  old  and  very  much 
gilded,  resembling  a  cabinet  of  curiosities.  Her  mind 
was  awakened  amid  the  hum  of  antediluvian  conversa- 
tions, her  imagination  aroused  by  arguments  a  little 
less  profitable  than  those  of  an  assembly  of  dunces,  con- 
voked to  decide  the  merits  of  a  Greek  hexameter.  Here 
she  imbibed  a  fund  of  ideas,  which,  applied  to  the 
forms  of  society  to-day,  are  grotesque,  as  would  be 
those  of  an  individual  shut  up  for  twenty  years  in  an 
Assyrian  museum. 

The  empire,  the  restoration,  the  monarchy  of  July, 
the  second  republic,  the  second  empire,  have  passed 
beneath  her  windows;  but  she  has  not  taken  the  pains 
to  open  them.  All  that  has  taken  place  since  '89  she 
ignores,  or  at  most  looks  upon  as  a  dream,  a  nightmare, 
and  expects  an  awakening.  She  has  seen  every  thing; 
but  she  has  seen  it  through  spectacles  of  her  own  mak- 
ing, which  present  objects  not  as  they  are,  but  as  she 
wishes  them  to  be. 

At  the  age  of  sixty-eight,  she  was  straight  as  an  ar- 
row, and  had  never  known  a  day's  sickness.  She  ate 
her  four  meals  a  day  with  the  appetite  of  a  grape-gath- 
erer, and  drank  when  she  was  thirsty.  She  was  so  vi- 
vacious and  active  that  she  never  rested  save  when 
sleeping,  or  when  seated  at  her  favorite  game  of  piquet. 
She  professed  an  undisguised  contempt  for  the  silly  wo- 


120  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

men  of  our  century,  who  dine  on  the  wing  of  a  par- 
tridge, and  talk  you  to  death  with  philosophical  disquisi- 
tions. Positive  and  over-bearing  in  all  things,  her  word 
was  prompt  and  easily  understood.  Her  language  was 
never  rendered  obscure  by  unnecessary  delicacy.  She 
never  shrank  from  using  the  most  appropriate  words  to 
express  her  meaning.  If  she  offended  some  refined 
ears,  so  much  the  worse, — for  their  owners.  What  she 
most  detested  was  hypocrisy. 

She  believed  in  God ;  but  she  believed  also  a  little  in 
Voltaire.  In  fact,  her  devotion  was,  to  say  the  least, 
problematical.  However,  she  wras  on  good  terms  with 
the  curate  of  her  parish,  and  was  very  particular  about 
the  arrangement  of  her  dinner  on  the  days  she  honored 
him  with  an  invitation  to  her  table.  She  considered 
him  a  subaltern,  very  useful  to  her  salvation,  and  de- 
serving of  the  honor  of  opening  for  her  the  gate  of  para- 
dise. 

She  was  shunned  like  the  plague.  Everybody  dreaded 
her  high  voice,  her  terrible  indiscretion,  and  the  frank- 
ness of  speech  she  seemed  to  affect,  in  order  to  claim 
the  right  of  saying  the  most  unpleasant  things  before 
your  face.  Of  all  her  family,  there  remained  only  her 
granddaughter,  whose  father  had  died  very  young. 

Of  a  fortune  originally  large,  she  had  been  able  to 
preserve  but  a  small  remnant,  on  which  she  supported 
her  small  household  in  genteel,  or  rather  aristocratic 
poverty.  She  was,  however,  proprietor  of  the  pretty 
little  house  in  which  she  lived  near  the  Invalides,  situ- 
ated between  a  rather  narrow  court  and  a  very  extensive 
and  beautiful  garden. 

So  circumstanced,  she  considered  herself  the  most 
unfortunate  of  God's  creatures,  and  passed  the  greater 
part  of  her  time  crying  miserere !  From  time  to  time, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  121 

she  declared  she  expected  to  be  reduced  to  absolute  beg- 
gary, and  to  die  in  a  hospital. 

A  friend  of  M.  Daburon's  presented  him  one  evening 
to  the  Marquise  d'Arlanges,  having  dragged  him  to  her 
house  in  a  mirthful  mood,  saying,  "  Come  with  me, 
and  I  will  show  you  a  phenomenon, — a  ghost  of  the 
past  in  flesh  and  bone." 

The  marquise  received  the  magistrate  graciously 
enough;  and  her  eccentricities  amused  him.  On  his 
second  visit,  she  amused  him  still  more ;  for  which  rea- 
son, he  came  a  third  time.  But  she  amused  him  no 
longer;  henceforth,  every  faculty  of  his  soul  was  ab- 
sorbed in  studying  the  charms  of  the  young  and  tender 
rose  who  was  blooming  into  loveliness,  in  this  to  him 
henceforth  enchanted  dwelling. 

Madame  d'Arlanges  conceived  a  violent  friendship 
for  him,  and  became  eloquent  in  his  praise. 

"  A  most  charming  young  man,"  she  declared,  "  deli- 
cate and  sensible!  What  a  pity  he  was  not  born — " 
(Her  ladyship  meant  born  of  noble  parentage,  but  used 
the  phrase  as  ignoring  the  fact  of  the  unfortunates  who 
are  not  noble  having  been  born  at  all ;)  "  although  it  is 
plainly  to  be  seen  he  ought  to  be.  His  family,  by  the 
father's  side,  were  people  of  considerable  importance; 
and  his  mother  was  a  Cottevise,  who  made  a  mesalliance. 
I  approve  of  the  young  man,  and  shall  advance  him  in 
the  world  by  my  countenance." 

The  strongest  proof  of  the  favorable  impression  he 
had  made  upon  the  marquise  was,  that  she  condescended 
to  pronounce  his  name  like  the  rest  of  the  world.  She 
preserved  this  affectation  of  forgetfulness  of  the  names 
of  people  who  were  not  "  born,"  and  who  in  consequence 
have  no  right  to  names.  She  was  so  confirmed  in  this 
habit,  that,  if  by  accident  she  pronounced  the  name  of 


122  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

one  of  those  people  correctly,  she  repeated  it  imme- 
diately in  some  ridiculous  manner. 

At  his  first  visit,  the  judge  was  amused  to  hear  his 
name  changed  every  time  she  addressed  him  in  the  most 
unaccountable  way.  Successively  she  made  it  Taburon, 
Dabiron,  Maliron,  Laridon ;  but  in  less  than  three 
months,  she  called  him  Daburon  as  distinctly  as  if  he 
had  been  a  duke  of  something,  and  seigneur  of  some- 
where. 

On  occasions,  she  amused  herself,  endeavoring  to 
prove  to  the  worthy  magistrate  that  he  must  be  noble, 
or  at  least  ought  to  be.  She  would  have  been  happy,  if 
she  had  succeeded  in  making  him  wrap  himself  up  in 
a  title,  and  put  a  coat  of  arms  upon  his  visiting  cards. 

"  How  is  it  possible,"  said  she,  "  that  your  ancestors, 
eminent,  wealthy,  and  influential,  never  thought  of  pur- 
chasing a  title  for  their  descendants  ?  What  a  pity  they 
have  not  left  you  some  presentable  coat  of  arms !  " 

"  My  ancestors  were  proud,"  responded  M.  Daburon. 
"  They  preferred  being  foremost  among  their  fellow- 
citizens  to  becoming  newly-created  nobles." 

Upon  which  the  marquise  explained,  and  proved  to  a 
demonstration,  that  between  the  most  influential  and 
wealthy  untitled  citizen  and  the  smallest  scion  of  no- 
bility, there  was  an  abyss  that  all  the  money  in  the  world 
could  not  fill  up. 

They  who  were  surprised  at  the  frequency  of  the 
magistrate's  visits  to  this  celebrated  "  relic  of  the  past  " 
had  no  idea  that  the  real  attraction  was  not  the  mar- 
quise but  her  granddaughter,  Claire,  whose  presence 
converted  the  old-fashioned  house  into  a  bower  of  en- 
chantment. 

Mademoiselle  Claire  d'Arlanges  had  already  seen  sev- 
enteen summers.  She  was  very  gracious  and  sweet  in 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  123 

manner,  and  ravishing  in  her  natural  innocence  and 
fearlesness  of  harm.  She  had  blonde,  ash-colored  hair, 
very  fine  and  thick,  which  she  wore  over  a  large  roll 
above  her  forehead,  and  which  fell  in  large  masses  upon 
her  neck,  in  the  most  artless  fashion  imaginable.  Her 
figure,  though  graceful,  was  rather  slender ;  but  her  face 
recalled  the  celestial  pictures  of  Guido.  Her  blue  eyes, 
shaded  by  long  lashes  of  a  hue  darker  than  her  hair, 
had  above  all  an  adorable  expression. 

A  certain  air  of  antiquity,  caught  from  association 
with  her  grandmother,  added  yet  another  charm  to  the 
young  girl's  manners.  She  had  more  sense,  however, 
than  her  relative;  and,  as  her  education  was  not  ne- 
glected, she  had  imbibed  ideas  of  the  world  in  which 
she  lived  sufficiently  exact  to  preserve  her  from  imita- 
ting her  grandmother's  absurdities.  This  education, 
these  practical  ideas,  Claire  owed  to  her  governess,  upon 
whose  shoulders  the  marquise  had  thrown  the  sole  re- 
sponsibility of  cultivating  her  mind. 

This  governess,  Mademoiselle  Schmidt,  chosen  at 
hazard,  taken  "  with  eyes  shut,"  happened  by  the  most 
fortunate  chance  to  be  both  well  informed  and  possessed 
of  principle.  She  was,  what  is  often  met  with  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Rhine,  a  woman  at  once  romantic  and 
practical,  of  the  tenderest  sensibility  and  the  severest 
virtue.  This  good  woman,  while  she  carried  her  pupil 
into  the  land  of  sentimental  phantasy  and  poetical  im- 
aginings, gave  her  at  the  same  time  the  most  practical 
instruction  in  matters  relating  to  actual  life ;  and,  while 
she  deprived  Claire  of  all  the  peculiarities  of  thought 
and  manner  that  rendered  her  grandmother  so  ridicu- 
lous, she  preserved  in  her  mind  all  the  respect  that  was 
due  to  her  position  and  the  relations  between  them. 

This  was  the  young  girl  who  attracted  M.  Daburon  to 


124  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Madame  d'Arlanges'  salon  where  he  sat  evening  after 
evening,  listening,  without  hearing,  to  her  rigmaroles, 
her  interminable  anecdotes  of  the  emigration ;  while  he 
gazed  upon  Claire,  as  a  fanatic  upon  his  idol.  Often, 
in  his  ecstasy,  he  forgot  where  he  was  for  the  moment, 
absolutely  became  oblivious  of  the  old  lady's  presence; 
although  her  shrill  voice  was  piercing  the  tympanum  of 
his  ear,  as  a  needle  goes  through  cloth.  Suddenly  re- 
called to  consciousness,  he  answered  her  at  cross-pur- 
poses, committing  the  most  singular  blunders,  which 
he  labored  afterwards  to  explain.  But  this  did  not  much 
impede  the  conversation.  Madame  d'Arlanges  did  not 
perceive  her  courtier's  absence  of  mind ;  and  her  ques- 
tions were  of  such  a  length,  and  succeeded  each  other 
so  rapidly,  that  the  answers  were  of  little  consequence. 
Having  a  listener,  she  was  satisfied,  provided  that  from 
time  to  time  he  gave  signs  of  life. 

When  obliged  to  sit  down  to  piquet,  he  cursed  below 
his  breath  the  game  and  its  detestable  inventor.  He 
paid  no  attention  to  his  cards.  He  made  mistakes  every 
moment,  dealt  without  seeing,  and  forgot  to  cut.  The 
old  dame  was  annoyed  by  these  continual  distractions; 
but  she  did  not  scruple  to  profit  by  them.  She  watched 
the  deal,  rectified  all  mistakes;  while  she  counted  au- 
daciously points  she  never  made,  and  pocketed  his 
money  without  remorse. 

As  Daburon's  timidity  was  extreme,  and  Claire  was 
unsociable  to  excess,  they  never  spoke  to  each  other. 
During  the  entire  winter,  the  judge  did  not  address  ten 
times  a  direct  word  to  the  young  girl ;  and,  on  these 
rare  occasions,  he  had  learned  by  heart  mechanically  the 
phrase  he  proposed  to  repeat  to  her,  well  knowing  that, 
without  this  precaution,  he  would  be  obliged  to  remain 
silent. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  125 

But  at  least  he  saw  her,  he  breathed  the  same  air  with 
her,  he  heard  her  voice,  whose  pure  and  harmonious  vi- 
brations thrilled  his  very  soul. 

By  constantly  watching  her  eyes,  he  learned  to  un- 
derstand all  their  expressions.  He  believed  he  could 
read  in  them  all  her  thoughts,  and  through  them  look 
into  her  soul  as  into  an  open  window. 

"  She  is  pleased  to-day,"  said  he  to  himself ;  and 
then  he  was  happy.  At  other  times,  he  thought,  "  She 
has  met  with  some  annoyance  to-day ;  "  and  immediately 
he  became  sad. 

The  idea  of  asking  for  her  hand  many  times  presented 
itself  to  his  imagination ;  but  he  never  dared  to  entertain 
it.  Knowing,  as  he  did,  the  marquise's  prejudices,  her 
devotion  to  titles,  her  dread  of  mesalliance,  he  was  con- 
vinced she  would  reject  his  suit ;  and  he  did  not  dare  to 
risk  the  dissolution  of  his  present  happiness  upon  so 
slender  a  hope  of  success.  Poor  man !  he  had  reached 
the  altitude  of  love  where  it  feeds  upon  its  own  misery. 

"  Once  repulsed,"  he  thought,  "  the  house  is  shut 
against  me ;  and  then  farewell  to  happiness :  this  life  is 
finished  for  me." 

Upon  the  other  hand,  the  very  rational  thought  oc- 
curred to  him  that  some  other  might  see  Mademoiselle 
d'Arlanges;  seeing,  love  her,  and  in  consequence,  de- 
mand and  perhaps  obtain  her. 

In  either  case,  hazarding  a  proposal,  or  hesitating 
still,  he  must  certainly  lose  her  in  the  end.  By  the  com- 
mencement of  spring,  his  mind  was  made  up. 

One  fine  afternoon,  in  the  month  of  April,  he  bent  his 
steps  towards  the  Hotel  d'Arlanges,  having  truly  need 
of  more  bravery  than  if  he  were  a  soldier  about  to  face 
a  battery.  He,  like  the  soldier,  whispered  to  himself 
"  Victory  or  death !  "  The  marquise,  who  had  gone  out 


126  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

shortly  after  breakfast,  had  just  returned  in  a  terrible 
rage,  and  was  uttering  screams  like  an  eagle. 

This  was  what  had  taken  place.  She  had  had  some 
work  done  by  a  neighboring  painter  some  eight  or  ten 
months  before;  and  the  workman  presented  himself  a 
hundred  times  to  receive  payment,  without  avail.  Tired 
of  this  proceeding,  he  had  summoned  the  high  and 
mighty  Marquise  d'Arlanges  before  the  courts. 

This  summons  had  exasperated  the  marquise ;  but  she 
kept  the  matter  to  herself,  having  decided,  in  her  wis- 
dom, to  call  upon  the  judge  of  the  court  himself,  and 
request  him  to  reprimand  the  insolent  painter  who  had 
dared  to  plague  her  for  a  paltry  sum  of  money.  The  re- 
sult of  this  fine  project  may  be  guessed.  The  judge 
had  been  compelled  to  eject  her  forcibly  from  his  office ; 
hence  her  fury. 

M.  Daburon  found  her  in  the  rose-colored  boudoir 
in  half  dishabille,  and  complete  disorder  of  head-dress, 
red  as  a  peony,  surrounded  by  the  debris  of  glass  and 
china  which  had  fallen  under  her  hands  in  the  first  mo- 
ments of  her  passion.  To  complete  her  annoyance, 
Claire  and  her  governess  were  gone  out.  An  excited 
and  terrified  femme  de  chambre  was  inundating  the  old 
lady  with  water,  in  the  hope  of  calming  her  nerves. 

She  received  Daburon  as  a  messenger  direct  from 
Providence.  In  a  little  more  than  half  an  hour,  she  told 
her  story,  interlarded  with  interjections  and  impreca- 
tions. 

"  Do  you  comprehend  this  judge  ?  "  cried  she.  "  This 
must  be  some  frantic  Jacobin, — some  son  of  the  furies, 
who  washed  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  their  king.  Oh  ! 
my  friend,  I  read  stupor  and  indignation  on  your  visage. 
He  has  listened  to  the  complaint  of  this  buffoon,  to 
whom  I  had  given  the  means  of  living,  by  employing 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  127 

him.  And  when  I  waited  upon  him  in  his  office,  and  ad- 
dressed to  him,  as  I  owed  it  to  myself  to  do,  some  severe 
remonstrances,  he  actually  turned  me  out  of  the  room ! 
me!  turned  me  out!  " 

At  this  painful  recollection,  she  made  a  fierce  gesture 
with  her  arms.  In  her  sudden  movement,  she  struck  a 
superb  flacon,  which  the  femme  de  chambre  was  hold- 
ing. The  blow  dashed  it  to  pieces  against  the  wall  of 
the  boudoir. 

"  Stupid,  awkward  fool !  "  she  cried,  turning  her  an- 
ger upon  the  frightened  girl. 

Daburon,  stunned  at  first,  now  endeavored  to  calm 
her  exasperation.  She  did  not  allow  him  to  pronounce 
three  words. 

"  Happily  you  are  here,"  she  continued !  "  I  have  told 
you  all.  I  count  upon  you !  you  will  exercise  your  in- 
fluence, your  powerful  friends,  your  credit,  to  have  this 
pitiful  painter  and  this  miscreant  of  a  judge  flung  into 
some  deep  ditch,  to  teach  them  the  respect  due  to  a  wo- 
man of  my  rank." 

The  magistrate  did  not  permit  himself  even  to  smile 
at  this  imperative  demand.  He  had  heard  many  speeches 
as  absurd  issue  from  her  lips  without  daring  to  perceive 
their  absurdity.  Was  she  not  Claire's  grandmother? 
for  that  he  loved  and  venerated  her.  He  blessed  her  for 
her  granddaughter,  as  an  admirer  of  nature  blesses 
heaven  for  the  wild  flower  that  delights  him  with  its 
perfume. 

The  fury  of  the  old  lady  was  terrible;  nor  was  it  of 
short  duration.  It  was  able,  like  the  anger  of  Achilles, 
to  last  through  ten  chapters.  At  the  end  of  an  hour, 
however,  she  was,  or  appeared  to  be  pacified.  They  re- 
placed her  head-dress,  repaired  the  disorder  of  her  toi- 
lette, and  picked  up  the  fragments  of  broken  china.  Van- 


128  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

quished  by  her  own  violence,  the  reaction  was  imme- 
diate and  complete.  She  fell  back  helpless  and  ex- 
hausted in  the  arm-chair. 

This  magnificent  result  was  due  to  the  magistrate. 
To  accomplish  it,  he  had  to  use  all  his  ability,  to  exer- 
cise the  most  angelic  patience,  the  greatest  tact.  His 
triumph  was  the  more  meritorious,  because  he  came 
unprepared  for  this  adventure,  which  interfered  with 
his  intended  proposal.  He  had  arrived  filled  with  some- 
thing like  a  resolve  to  speak  of  his  wishes ;  and  this  un- 
toward event  declared  against  him:  but  he  had  a  good 
heart  to  oppose  to  misfortune. 

Arming  himself  with  his  professional  eloquence,  he 
talked  the  old  lady  into  calmness.  He  was  not  so  fool- 
ish as  to  contradict  her.  On  the  contrary,  he  caressed 
her  hobby.  He  was  humorous  and  pathetic  by  turns. 
He  attacked  the  authors  of  the  revolution,  cursed  its 
errors,  deplored  its  crimes,  and  reviewed  its  disastrous 
results.  From  the  infamous  Marat,  by  an  adroit  allu- 
sion he  attacked  the  infamous  judge  who  had  offended 
her.  He  abused  the  scandalous  conduct  of  the  magis- 
trate in  good  set  terms,  and  was  awfully  severe  upon 
the  dishonest  scamp  of  a  painter.  He  declared  that  they 
deserved  the  lowest  dungeon  in  the  Bastile ;  but  the  con- 
clusion to  which  he  arrived  was,  that  the  severest  blow 
she  could  administer  to  the  man's  impertinence  and  the 
judge's  incapacity  would  be  to  pay  the  bill,  and  compel 
them  to  give  her  a  receipt  in  full  for  all  demands. 

The  disconnected  syllable  "  pay  "  brought  Madame 
d'Arlanges  to  her  feet  in  the  fercest  attitude. 

"  Pay !  "  she  screamed.  "  In  order  that  these  scoun- 
drels may  persist  in  their  obduracy  ?  encourage  them  by 
a  culpable  weakness?  Never!  And,  moreover,  to  pay, 
it  is  necessary  to  have  money ;  and  I  have  none !  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  129 

"  Why,"  said  the  judge,  "  it  amounts  to  but  eighty- 
seven  francs !  " 

"  And  is  that  nothing  ?  "  asked  the  marquise :  "  you 
talk  very  easily,  M.  Daburon.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you 
have  money:  your  ancestors  were  people  of  no  rank: 
and  the  revolution  passed  a  hundred  feet  above  their 
heads.  Who  can  tell  whether  they  may  not  have  been 
the  gainers  by  it  ?  It  has  taken  all  from  the  d'Arlanges. 
What  will  they  do  to  me,  if  I  do  not  pay  ?  " 

"  Well,  madame  le  marquise,  many  things, — ruin  you, 
in  short :  you  will  receive  a  notification  from  the  courts. 
If  that  is  not  attended  to,  your  furniture  will  be  seized." 

"  Alas ! "  cried  the  old  lady,  "  the  revolution  is  not 
over  yet.  We  have  not  passed  through  all  its  horrors ! 
How  fortunate  you  are,  M.  Daburon,  in  being  of  the 
people !  I  see  plainly  that  I  must  pay  this  man ;  and  it 
is  frightfully  sad  for  me,  who  have  nothing,  and  am 
forced  to  make  such  sacrifices  for  sake  of  my  grand- 
child ! " 

The  word  "  sacrifices  "  surprised  the  magistrate  so 
strongly  that  involuntarily  he  repeated  it  half-aloud, 
"Sacrifices?" 

"  Certainly !  "  replied  Madame  d'Arlanges.  "  With- 
out her,  would  I  have  to  live  as  I  am  doing,  refusing 
myself  every  thing  to  make  both  ends  meet?  Was  it 
not  for  her  sake  I  placed  all  that  I  possessed  in  the 
funds,  and  lost  it?  But  I  do  not  consider  myself.  I 
know,  thank  heaven,  the  duties  of  a  mother;  and  I 
guard  all  mine  well  for  my  little  Claire." 

To  this  extraordinary  devotion,  M.  Daburon  had  no 
reply  to  make. 

"  Ah !  this  dear  child  torments  me  terribly,"  con- 
tinned  the  marquise.  "  I  confess,  M.  Daburon,  it  makes 
me  giddy  when  I  think  of  her  establishment." 


130  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  judge  reddened  with  pleasure.  The  occasion 
had  come  at  a  gallop.  She  was  turning  to  leave  the 
room,  when  he  detained  her. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  stammered  he,  "  that  to  establish 
Mademoiselle  Claire  ought  to  be  easy." 

"Unfortunately,  it  is  any  thing  but  easy.  She  is 
pretty  enough,  although  unpolished;  but,  now-a-days, 
beauty  goes  for  nothing.  Men  are  so  mercenary  they 
think  only  of  money.  I  do  not  know  of  one  who  has 
the  manhood  to  take  a  d'Arlanges  with  her  bright  eyes 
for  a  dowry." 

"  I  believe  that  you  exaggerate,"  said  the  judge  tim- 
idly. 

"  By  no  means.  Besides,  when  I  find  a  son-in-law, 
he  will  cause  me  a  thousand  troubles.  Of  this,  I  am  as- 
sured by  my  lawyer.  I  can  be  compelled,  it  seems,  to 
render  an  account  of  Claire's  patrimony.  As  if  I  ever 
kept  accounts !  It  is  shameful.  Ah !  if  Claire  had  any 
sense  of  filial  duty,  she  would  quietly  take  the  veil  in 
some  convent.  I  would  use  every  effort  to  pay  the  ne- 
cessary dower ;  but  she  has  no  affection  for  me." 

Daburon  felt  that  the  time  to  speak  had  arrived.  He 
collected  his  courage,  as  a  good  horseman  pulls  his  horse 
together  the  moment  he  faces  the  leap,  and  in  a  voice 
which  he  tried  to  render  firm,  commenced, — 

"  Madame,  I  know,  I  believe,  just  the  person  for 
Mademoiselle  Claire, — an  honest  man,  who.  loves  her, 
and  who  will  do  every  thing  in  the  world  to  make  her 
happy." 

"  That,"  said  Madame  d'Arlanges,  "  is  always  un- 
derstood." 

"  The  man  of  whom  I  speak,"  continued  the  judge, 
"  is  still  young,  and  is  rich.  He  will  be  only  too  happy 
to  receive  Mademoiselle  Claire  without  dowry.  Not 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  131 

only  will  he  decline  an  examination  of  your  accounts  of 
guardianship,  but  he  will  supply  you  with  means  to  free 
your  own  property  of  all  incumbrance." 

"  Peste !  "  exclaimed  the  old  dame ;  "  you  are  not  a 
bad  friend,  M.  Daburon !  " 

"  If  you  prefer  to  place  your  fortune  in  an  annuity, 
your  son-in-law  will  make  good  whatever  deficiency  re- 
mains." 

"  Ah !  I  am  suffocating.  If  you  have  known  such  a 
man,  why  have  you  not  already  presented  him  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  dare,  madame :  I  was  afraid." 

"  Quick !  tell  me  who  is  this  admirable  son-in-law, — 
this  white  blackbird  ?  where  does  he  nestle  ?  " 

The  judge  felt  a  strange  fluttering  of  the  heart:  he 
was  going  to  stake  his  happiness  on  a  word.  At  length, 
he  stammered, — 

"  It  is  I,  madame !  " 

His  voice,  his  look,  his  suppliant  gesture,  were  ridicu- 
lous in  the  eyes  of  the  old  lady ;  and  she  laughed  till  the 
tears  came.  He,  frightened  at  his  own  audacity,  stunned 
at  having  vanquished  his  timidity,  was  on  the  point  of 
falling  at  her  feet.  At  last,  raising  her  shoulders,  she 
cried, — 

"  My  dear  Daburon,  you  are  too  ridiculous !  In  good 
truth,  you  will  make  me  die  of  laughing." 

But  suddenly,  in  the  very  height  of  her  merriment 
she  stopped,  and  assumed  her  most  dignified  air. 

"  Are  you  perfectly  serious  in  all  you  have  told  me, 
M.  Daburon  ?  " 

"  I  have  stated  the  truth,"  murmured  the  judge. 

"  You  are  very  rich,  then  ?  " 

"  I  have,  madame,  in  right  of  my  mother,  about 
twenty  thousand  livres  a  year.  One  of  my  uncles  died 
about  a  year  ago,  leaving  me  a  hundred  thousand 


132  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

crowns.  My  father  is  worth  not  less  than  a  million. 
Were  I  to  ask  him  for  the  half  to-morrow,  he  would 
give  it  to  me.  He  would  give  me  all  his  fortune,  if  it 
were  necessary  to  my  happiness,  and  be  but  too  well 
contented,  should  I  relieve  him  of  its  administration." 

Madame  d'Arlanges  made  a  sign  to  him  to  be  silent ; 
and,  for  five  good  minutes  at  least,  she  remained  plunged 
in  reflection,  her  forehead  resting  in  her  hands.  At 
length  she  raised  her  head. 

"  Hear  me,"  said  she.  "  Had  you  been  so  hardy  as 
to  make  this  proposal  to  Claire's  father,  he  would  have 
called  his  servants  to  show  you  the  door;  but  I  am  old 
and  desolate.  I  am  poor.  My  grandchild's  prospects 
disquiet  me;  and  that  is  my  excuse  for  not  acting  in 
like  manner.  I  cannot,  however,  consent  to  speak  to 
Claire  of  this  horrible  mesalliance.  This  much  I  can 
promise  you ;  and  it  is  much,  I  will  not  be  against  you. 
Take  your  own  measures.  Pay  your  addresses  to  Ma- 
demoiselle d'Arlanges.  Let  her  decide.  If  she  says 
'  yes,'  I  shall  not  say  '  no.'  " 

Daburon  transported  with  happiness,  would  have 
embraced  the  old  lady,  if  he  dared.  He  never  dreamed 
of  the  facility  with  which  this  fierce  soul  had  been 
brought  to  yield.  He  was  delirious. 

"  Wait !  "  said  the  old  lady ;  "  your  cause  is  not  yet 
gained.  Your  mother,  it  is  true,  was  a  Cottevise;  and 
I  must  excuse  her  for  marrying  so  wretchedly :  but  your 
father  is  Sieur  Daburon.  This  name,  my  dear  friend, 
is  simply  ridiculous.  Do  you  think  it  will  be  possible  to 
wrap  up  in  Daburon  a  young  girl  who  for  eighteen  years 
has  been  called  d'Arlanges  ?  " 

This  objection  did  not  seem  to  trouble  the  judge. 

"  After  all,"  continued  the  old  lady,  "  your  father  has 
gained  a  Cottevise :  you  may  win  a  d'Arlanges ;  and,  on 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  133 

the  strength  of  an  alliance  with  the  daughter  of  a  house 
whose  nobility  has  descended  from  sire  to  son  for  so 
many  generations,  the  Daburons  may  end  by  being  en- 
nobled. Who  knows?  One  last  advice:  you  believe 
Claire  to  be  just  as  she  looks, — timid,  sweet,  obedient. 
Undeceive  yourself,  my  friend.  With  her  saintly  air 
and  delicate  touch,  she  is  hardy,  fierce,  and  obstinate  as 
the  marquis  her  father  was,  who  resembled  a  mule  of 
Auvergne.  You  see,  I  forewarn  you.  Our  conditions 
are  agreed  to,  are  they  not  ?  Let  us  say  no  more  on  the 
subject.  I  wish  you  every  success." 

This  scene  was  so  present  to  his  mind  as  he  sat  there 
at  midnight  in  his  own  house  in  his  arm-chair,  after 
so  long  a  lapse  of  time  that  he  still  seemed  to  hear  the 
old  lady's  voice ;  and  this  word  "  success  "  sounded  in 
his  ear. 

He  departed  in  triumph  from  the  Hotel  d'Arlanges, 
which  he  had  entered  with  a  heart  swelling  with  anx- 
iety. 

He  walked  with  his  head  high,  his  chest  dilated, 
breathing  the  air  with  full  respirations. 

He  was  so  happy !  The  sky  appeared  to  him  more 
blue,  the  sun  more  brilliant. 

The  grave  magistrate  felt  a  mad  desire  to  stop  the 
passers  by,  to  press  them  in  his  arms,  to  cry  to  them, — 

"  Do  you  not  know,  the  marquise  consents  ?  " 

He  walked  ;  and  the  earth  seemed  to  him  to  bound  be- 
neath his  steps.  He  felt  too  small  to  contain  his  hap- 
piness, too  light  to  remain  on  earth.  He  was  going  to 
fly  away  toward  the  stars. 

What  a  castle  in  Spain  did  he  build  upon  this  little 
word  of  the  marquise !  He  tendered  his  resignation. 
He  built  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire,  not  far  from  Tours, 
an  enchanting  little  villa.  He  saw  it  smiling,  with  its 


134  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

fagade  to  the  rising  sun,  seated  in  the  midst  of  flowers, 
and  shaded  with  great  trees.  He  furnished  this  dwell- 
ing as  if  for  the  reception  of  the  queen  of  the  fairies. 
He  wished  to  provide  a  casket  worthy  the  pearl  he  was 
going  to  possess,  for  he  had  not  a  dread  of  shipwreck, 
to  obscure  the  horizon  made  radiant  by  his  hopes,  not  a 
voice  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  raised  itself  to  cry,  "  Be- 
ware !  " 

From  this  time,  his  visits  to  the  marquise  became 
more  frequent.  He  might  be  said  to  live  at  her  house. 

While  he  preserved  his  respectful  and  reserved  de- 
meanor towards  Claire,  he  strove  assiduously  to  be 
something  in  her  life.  He  strove  to  conquer  his  timid- 
ity, to  speak  to  this  well  beloved  of  his  soul, — to  con- 
verse with  her,  to  interest  her. 

He  went  in  quest  of  novelty,  to  amuse  her.  He  read 
all  the  new  books,  and  brought  to  her  all  that  were  fit 
for  her  to  read. 

Little  by  little  he  succeeded,  thanks  to  the  most  deli- 
cate persistence,  in  taming  his  wood  pigeon.  He  began 
to  perceive  that  her  fear  of  him  had  almost  disappeared, 
that  she  no  longer  received  him  with  the  cold  and 
haughty  air  which  so  long  had  kept  him  at  a  distance. 
He  felt  that  insensibly  he  was  advancing  in  her  con- 
fidence. She  still  blushed  when  she  spoke  to  him ;  but 
she  no  longer  hesitated  to  address  the  first  word.  She 
even  ventured  at  times  to  ask  him  a  question.  She  had 
heard  a  play  spoken  of,  and  wished  to  know  the  sub- 
ject. M.  Daburon  quickly  ran  to  see  it,  and  committed 
a  complete  account  of  it  to  writing,  which  he  addressed 
to  her  by  mail.  At  times  she  entrusted  him  with  trifling 
commissions,  the  execution  of  which  he  would  not  have 
exchanged  for  a  Russian  embassy. 

Once  he  ventured  to  send  her  a  magnificent  bouquet. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  135 

She  accepted  it  with  an  air  of  suppressed  disquietude, 
and  begged  him  not  to  repeat  the  offering. 

The  tears  came  to  his  eyes ;  and  he  left  her  presence 
wounded, — the  unhappiest  of  men. 

But,  three  days  after,  she  raised  him  from  this  de- 
spair, by  begging  him  to  look  for  certain  flowers,  then 
very  much  in  fashion,  she  wanted  for  her  little  garden. 
He  sent  enough  to  fill  the  house  from  the  garret  to  the 
cellar. 

"  She  loves  me,"  he  whispered  to  himself. 

These  little  events,  so  great,  had  not  interrupted  the 
parties  at  piquet ;  only  the  young  girl  now  appeared  in- 
terested in  the  game,  nearly  always  taking  part  with  the 
judge  against  the  marquise.  She  did  not  understand 
the  game  very  well ;  but,  when  the  old  gambler  cheated 
too  openly,  she  would  perceive  it,  and  say  laughing, — 

"  She  is  robbing  you,  M.  Daburon, — she  is  robbing 
you!" 

He  would  willingly  be  robbed  of  his  entire  fortune, 
to  hear  that  sweet  voice  raised  for  him. 

It  was  summer. 

Often  in  the  evening  she  accepted  his  arm  ;  and,  while 
the  marquise  remained  in  the  porch,  seated  in  her  arm- 
chair, they  walked  around  the  garden,  treading  lightly 
upon  the  paths  spread  with  gravel,  sifted  so  fine  that 
the  trailing  of  her  light  robe  effaced  the  traces  of  their 
footsteps.  She  chatted  gaily  with  him,  as  with  a  be- 
loved brother ;  while  he  was  obliged  to  do  violence  to  his 
feelings,  to  refrain  from  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  the  little 
blonde  head,  from  which  the  light  breeze  lifted  the  curls 
and  scattered  them  like  fleecy  clouds.  At  such  mo- 
ments, he  seemed  to  tread  a  triumphant  path,  strewn 
with  flowers,  and  saw  at  the  end  happiness. 

He  attempted  to  speak  of  his  hopes  to  the  marquise. 


136  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  You  know  what  we  have  agreed  upon,"  she  would 
say.  "  Not  a  word.  Already  does  the  voice  of  con- 
science reproach  me  with  my  fault  in  lending  my  coun- 
tenance to  this  abomination.  To  think  that  I  may  one 
day  have  a  granddaughter  who  calls  herself  Daburon! 
I  must  petition  the  king,  my  friend,  to  change  this 
name." 

If,  instead  of  intoxicating  himself  with  dreams  of 
happiness,  this  acute  observer  had  studied  the  character 
of  his  idol,  the  effect  might  have  been  to  put  him  upon 
his  guard. 

In  the  mean  while,  he  remarked  singular  alterations 
in  her  humor.  On  certain  days  she  was  gay  and  care- 
less as  a  child.  Then,  for  a  week,  she  would  remain 
sombre  and  dejected.  Seeing  her  in  this  state  the 
day  following  a  ball,  to  which  her  grandmother  had 
taken  her,  he  dared  to  ask  her  the  reason  of  her 
sadness. 

"  Oh !  that,"  answered  she,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  "  is 
my  secret, — a  secret  of  which  even  my  grandmother 
knows  nothing." 

Daburon  looked  at  her.  He  thought  he  saw  a  tear 
between  her  long  eyelashes. 

"  One  day,"  continued  she,  "  I  may  confide  in  you : 
it  will  be  necessary,  perhaps." 

The  judge  was  blind  and  deaf. 

"  I  also,"  answered  he,  "  have  a  secret,  which  I  wish 
to  confide  to  you  in  return." 

When  retiring  after  midnight,  he  said  to  himself, 
"  To-morrow  I  will  confess  every  thing  to  her." 

There  passed  a  little  more  than  fifty  days,  during 
which  he  kept  repeating  to  himself, — 

"  To-morrow ! " 

One  evening  in  the  month  of  August, — the  heat  all 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  137 

day  had  been  overpowering, — a  breeze  had  risen.  The 
leaves  rustled:  there  were  signs  of  a  storm  in  the  at- 
mosphere. 

They  were  seated  together  at  -the  bottom  of  the  gar- 
den, under  the  arbor,  adorned  with  flowers  which  Claire 
had  planted ;  and,  through  the  branches,  they  perceived 
the  fluttering  head-dress  of  the  marquise,  who  was  tak- 
ing her  accustomed  walk  after  supper. 

They  had  remained  a  long  time  without  speaking,  en- 
joying the  perfume  of  the  flowers,  the  calm  beauty  of 
the  evening.  Daburon  had  ventured  to  take  the  young 
girl's  hand. 

It  was  the  first  time ;  and  the  touch  of  her  slender  fin- 
gers thrilled  through  every  fibre  of  his  frame,  and  drove 
the  blood  surging  to  his  brain. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  stammered  he,  "  Claire." 

She  stopped  him,  by  turning  upon  him  her  beautiful 
eyes,  filled  with  astonishment. 

"  Pardon  me,"  continued  he, — "  pardon  me.  I  have 
addressed  your  grandmother,  before  venturing  to  speak 
to  you.  Do  you  not  understand  me,  Claire?  A  word 
from  your  lips  decides  my  future  happiness  or  misery. 
Claire,  mademoiselle,  I  love  you ! " 

While  the  magistrate  was  speaking,  the  young  girl 
looked  at  him  as  though  doubtful  of  the  evidence  of  her 
senses ;  but  at  the  words,  "  I  love  you !  "  pronounced 
with  the  trembling  accents  of  passion,  she  disengaged 
her  hand  rudely,  and  uttered  a  stifled  cry. 

"You,"  murmured  she, — "is  this  really  true?" 

M.  Daburon  at  this,  the  most  critical  moment  of  his 
life,  was  powerless  to  utter  a  word.  The  presentiment 
of  an  immense  misfortune  oppressed  his  heart.  What 
divined  he,  when  he  saw  Claire  burst  into  a  flood  of 
tears. 


138  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

She  hid  her  face  between  her  hands,  and  repeated, — 

"  I  am  very  unhappy,  very  unhappy !  " 

"  You  unhappy  ?  "  cried  the  magistrate.  "  And 
through  me,  Claire  ?  You  are  cruel !  In  heaven's  name, 
what  have  I  done  ?  What  is  the  matter  ?  Speak !  Any 
thing  rather  than  this  anxiety,  which  is  killing  me !  " 

He  knelt  before  her  on  the  gravelled  walk,  and  made 
an  attempt  to  again  take  her  hand.  She  repulsed  him 
with  an  imploring  gesture. 

"  Let  me  weep,"  said  she ;  "  you  are  going  to  hate 
me.  I  feel  it.  Who  knows,  to  despise  me,  perhaps? 
And  yet  I  swear  before  heaven  that  I  was  ignorant  of 
what  you  have  just  said  to  me,  that  I  had  not  even  a 
suspicion  of  it !  " 

Daburon  remained  upon  his  knees,  awaiting  his  doom. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Claire,  "  you  will  think  you  have 
been  the  victim  of  a  detestable  coquetry.  I  see  it  now  I 
I  comprehend  every  thing !  Is  it  possible,  that,  without 
a  profound  love,  a  man  cannot  be  all  that  you  have  been 
to  me  ?  Alas !  I  was  deceived.  I  gave  myself  up  to  the 
great  happiness  of  having  a  friend !  Am  I  not  alone 
in  the  world,  as  if  lost  in  a  desert  ?  Mad  and  imprudent, 
I  devoted  myself  to  you  without  reflection,  as  to  the 
most  indulgent  of  fathers." 

These  words  revealed  to  the  unfortunate  judge  a 
complete  understanding  of  his  error.  As  a  hammer  of 
steel  it  smashed  into  a  thousand  fragments  the  fragile 
edifice  of  his  hopes.  He  raised  himself  slowly ;  and,  in  a 
tone  of  involuntary  reproach,  he  repeated, — 

"  Your  father !  " 

The  young  girl  felt  how  deeply  she  had  wounded  him ; 
but  she  knew  not  the  intense  depth  of  his  love. 

"  Yes,"  she  repeated,  "  a  father !  Seeing  you  so 
grave  and  austere,  become  for  me  so  good,  so  indulgent, 


Claire — Mademoiselle — I  love  you." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  139 

I  thanked  heaven  for  sending  me  a  protector  to  replace 
the  father  I  have  lost." 

Daburon  could  not  restrain  a  sob;  his  heart  was 
breaking. 

"  One  word,"  continued  Claire, — "  one  single  word, 
would  have  enlightened  me.  That  word,  until  to-night, 
you  have  never  pronounced.  And  with  what  comfort  I 
have  leaned  upon  you,  as  an  infant  upon  its  mother; 
with  what  inward  joy  I  have  said  to  myself,  '  I  am  sure 
of  one  friend, — one  heart  into  which  runs  the  overflow 
of  mine.'  Ah!  why  was  not  my  confidence  greater? 
Why  have  I  withheld  my  secret  from  you?  I  would 
have  avoided  this  fearful  calamity.  I  ought  to  have 
long  since  told  what  I  must  tell  you  now.  I  belong  not 
to  myself,  but  to  another,  to  whom  I  have  freely  and 
with  happiness  given  my  life." 

To  hover  in  the  clouds,  and  suddenly  be  cast  rudely 
to  the  earth.  The  sufferings  of  the  judge  are  not  to 
be  described. 

"  Better  had  I  had  the  courage  to  speak  long  since," 
answered  he ;  "  yet,  no :  I  owe  to  silence  six  months  of 
delicious  illusions, — six  months  of  enchanting  dreams. 
This  shall  be  my  share  of  life's  happiness." 

The  last  beams  of  closing  day  permitted  the  magis- 
trate again  to  see  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges.  Her  beau- 
tiful face  was  blanched  to  a  deathlike  whiteness,  and 
was  immovable  in  its  expression  as  marble.  Large  tears 
rolled  silently  down  her  cheeks.  Daburon  seemed  to 
contemplate  the  frightful  spectacle  of  a  weeping  statue. 

"  You  love  another,"  said  he  at  length, — "  another  ? 
and  your  grandmother  is  ignorant?  Claire,  you  can- 
not have  chosen  a  man  unworthy  of  your  love?  How 
is  it  your  grandmother  does  not  receive  him  ?  " 

"  There  are  certain  obstacles,"  murmured  Claire, — 


140  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

'*'  obstacles  which  perhaps  we  may  never  be  able  to  re- 
move ;  but  a  girl  like  me  can  love  but  once.  She  marries 
him  she  loves,  or  she  remains  with  heaven!  " 

"  Certain  obstacles,"  said  Daburon  in  a  hollow  voice. 
"  You  love  a  man :  he  knows  it ;  and  he  meets  with  ob- 
stacles ?  " 

"  I  am  poor,"  answered  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges ; 
"  and  his  family-is  immensely  rich.  His  father  is  cruel, 
inexorable." 

"  His  father,"  cried  the  magistrate,  with  a  bitterness 
he  did  not  dream  of  hiding, — "  his  father,  his  family ; 
and  that  withholds  him?  You  are  poor:  he  is  rich; 
and  that  stops  him,  and  he  knows  you  love  him  ?  Ah ! 
why  am  I  not  in  his  place ;  and  why  have  not  I  against 
me  the  entire  universe?  What  sacrifice  could  compare 
with  love  like  mine?  Nay,  would  it  be  a  sacrifice? 
What  to  others  might  appear  so,  to  me  would  be  simply 
joy.  Suffer,  struggle,  wait,  so  long  as  hope  remains; 
that  is  to  love." 

"  It  is  thus  I  love,"  said  Claire  with  simplicity. 

This  answer  crushed  the  judge.  He  understood  that 
for  him  there  was  no  hope ;  but  he  felt  a  terrible  enjoy- 
ment in  plumbing  the  depth  of  his  misfortune. 

"  But,"  insisted  he,  "  how  have  you  known  him, 
spoken  to  him  ?  Where  ?  When  ?  Madame  d'Arlanges 
receives  no  one." 

"  I  will  tell  you  every  thing,"  answered  she  in  a  de- 
cided tone.  "  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  known 
him.  It  was  at  the  house  of  one  01  my  grandmother's 
friends,  who  was  a  cousin  of  his, — old  Mademoiselle 
Goello, — that  I  saw  him  for  the  first  time.  There  we 
first  met ;  there  we  meet  each  other  now." 

"  Ah !  "  cried  Daburon  to  himself,  "  I  remember 
now.  A  few  days  before  your  visit  to  Mademoiselle 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  141 

Goello,  you  are  gayer  than  usual ;  and,  when  you  return, 
you  are  often  sad." 

"  That  is  because  I  see  how  much  he  is  pained  by  the 
obstacles  he  cannot  overcome." 

"  His  family  is,  then,  so  illustrious,"  said  he,  "  that 
it  disdains  alliance  with  yours  ?  " 

"  You  shall  know  every  thing,  without  question,  mon- 
sieur," answered  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges.  "  His  name 
is  Albert  de  Commarin." 

The  marquise,  at  this  moment,  thinking  she  had 
walked  enough,  prepared  to  regain  her  rose-colored 
boudoir.  She  approached  the  arbor. 

"  Incorruptible  magistrate !  "  said  she,  in  her  great 
voice,  "  the  table  is  set  for  piquet." 

Mechanically  the  magistrate  arose,  stammering,  "  1 
am  coming." 

Claire  held  his  arm. 

"  I  have  not  asked  you  to  be  secret,  monsieur,"  said 
she. 

"  O  mademoiselle!  "  said  the  judge,  wounded  by  this 
appearance  of  doubt. 

"  I  know,"  said  Claire,  "  that  I  can  count  upon  you ; 
but,  come  what  will,  my  tranquillity  is  lost." 

Daburon  regarded  her  with  an  air  of  surprise;  his 
eye  questioned  her. 

"  It  is  certain,"  said  she,  answering  the  look,  "  that 
what  I,  a  young  and  inexperienced  girl,  have  failed  to 
see,  has  not  been  unnoticed  by  my  grandmother.  That 
she  has  continued  to  receive  you  is  a  tacit  encourage- 
ment of  your  addresses ;  which  I  consider,  permit  me 
to  say,  as  very  honorable  to  me." 

"  I  have  already  mentioned,  Mademoiselle,  that  the 
marquise  has  deigned  to  authorize  my  hopes." 

And  briefly  he  related  his  interview  with  Madame 


142  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

d'Arlanges,  having  the  delicacy  to  omit  absolutely  the 
question  of  money,  which  had  so  strongly  influenced  the 
old  lady. 

"  I  see  very  plainly  what  effect  this  will  have  on  my 
peace,"  said  she  sadly,  "  when  she  learns  that  I  have  not 
received  your  homage."' 

"  You  do  not  know  me,  mademoiselle,"  said  he.  "  I 
have  nothing  to  say  to  the  marquise.  I  will  retire ;  and 
all  will  be  concluded." 

"  Oh !  you  are  good  and  generous,  I  know !  " 

"  I  will  go  away,"  pursued  Daburon ;  "  and  soon  you 
will  have  forgotten  even  the  name  of  the  unfortunate 
whose  life  is  broken." 

"  You  do  not  mean  what  you  say  ?  "  asked  the  young 
girl  quickly. 

"  Well,  no.  I  will  flatter  myself  with  a  hope,  that, 
later,  my  remembrance  will  not  be  without  pleasure  to 
you.  Sometimes  you  will  say  '  He  loved  me,'  and  think 
of  me  as  a  friend, — your  most  devoted  friend." 

Claire,  in  her  turn,  took  with  emotion  his, hands  with- 
in her  own. 

"  Yes,"  said  she ;  "  you  must  remain  my  friend.  Let 
us  forget  what  has  happened, — what  you  have  said  to- 
night,— and  remain  to  me,  as  in  the  past,  the  best,  the 
most  indulgent  of  brothers." 

The  darkness  had  come,  and  she  could  not  see  him ; 
but  she  knew  he  was  weeping,  for  he  was  slow  to  an- 
swer. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  murmured  he  at  length,  "  that  you 
can  ask  that?  Do  you,  who  talk  to  me  of  for- 
getting, feel  the  power  to  forget?  Do  you  not 
know  that  I  love  you  a  thousand  times  more  than 
you  love — " 

He  stopped,  unable  to  pronounce  the  name  of  Com- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  143 

marin ;  and  then,  with  an  effort,  he  added,  "  and  I  shall 
love  you  always." 

He  had  left  the  arbor,  and  was  now  on  the  steps  of 
the  porch. 

"  And  now,  mademoiselle,  adieu !  You  will  see  me 
again  rarely.  I  shall  only  return  often  enough  to  avoid 
the  appearance  of  a  rupture." 

His  voice  trembled,  so  that  with  difficulty  he  made 
it  distinct. 

"  Whatever  may  come  in  the  future,"  added  he,  "  re- 
member that  there  is  one  in  the  world  who  belongs  to 
you  absolutely.  If  ever  you  have  need  of  a  friend's  de- 
votion, come  to  me,  come  to  your  friend.  Let  me  go. 
It  is  over.  I  have  courage,  Claire.  Mademoiselle,  for 
the  last  time,  adieu !  " 

She  was  little  less  dismayed  than  he  was.  Instinc- 
tively she  advanced  her  head ;  and  M.  Daburon  touched 
lightly  with  his  cold  lips,  for  the  first  and  last  time,  the 
forehead  of  her  he  loved  so  well. 

They  mounted  the  steps,  she  leaning  on  his  arm,  and 
entered  the  rose-colored  boudoir  where  the  marquise 
was  seated,  impatiently  shuffling  the  cards,  while  await- 
ing her  victim. 

"  Now,  then,  incorruptible  judge,"  cried  she. 

But  Daburon  felt  sick  at  heart.  He  could  not  have 
held  the  cards.  He  stammered  some  absurd  excuses,, 
spoke  of  pressing  affairs,  of  duties  to  be  attended  to, 
of  unexpected  news,  and  went  out,  clinging  to  the  walls. 

His  departure  made  the  old  cardplayer  indignant. 
She  turned  to  her  granddaughter,  who  was  endeavor- 
ing to  hide  her  confusion  behind  the  wax  candles  of 
the  card-table,  and  demanded, — 

"  What  has  happened  to  M.  Daburon  this  evening?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  madame,"  stammered  Claire. 


144  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  It  appears  to  me,"  continued  the  marquise,  "  that 
the  little  judge  permits  himself  to  take  singular  liber- 
ties. He  must  be  reminded  of  his  proper  place,  or  he 
will  finish  by  believing  himself  our  equal." 

Claire  essayed  to  justify  the  magistrate. 

"  He  has  been  complaining  all  the  evening,  grand- 
mamma ;  may  he  not  be  sick  ?  " 

"  What  if  he  should  be  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady. 
"  Is  it  not  his  duty  to  exercise  some  self-denial,  in  re- 
turn for  the  honor  of  our  company?  I  think  I  have 
already  related  to  you  the  story  of  your  granduncle, 
the  Duke  de  St.  Hurluge,  who,  having  attended  the 
king's  hunting  party,  on  their  return  from  the  chase 
lost  with  the  best  grace  in  the  world  two  hundred  and 
twenty  pistoles.  All  the  assembly  remarked  his  gaiety 
and  his  good  humor.  The  following  day  it  was  learned, 
that,  during  the  chase,  he  had  fallen  from  his  horse 
and  had  sat  at  his  majesty's  card-table  with  a  broken 
rib,  rather  than  mar  the  enjoyment  of  the  company  by 
a  complaint.  Nobody  made  any  outcry,  so  perfectly 
natural  did  an  act  of  ordinary  politeness  appear  in  those 
days.  This  little  judge,  if  he  is  sick,  should  have  given 
proof  of  his  breeding  by  saying  nothing  about  it,  and 
remaining  for  my  piquet.  But  he  is  as  well  as  I  am. 
Who  can  tell  what  games  he  has  gone  to  play  else- 
where ?  " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

DABURON  did  not  return  home  on  leaving  the  Hotel 
d'Arlanges.  All  the  night  he  wandered  at  random,  he 
knew  not  whither,  seeking  a  little  coolness  for  his  burn- 
ing head,  a  little  calm  for  his  overloaded  and  bursting 
heart. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  145 

"  Fool  that  I  was,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  Thousand 
times  fool  to  have  hoped,  to  have  believed,  that  she 
would  ever  love  me.  Insensible!  how  could  I  have 
dreamed  of  possessing  so  much  grace,  nobleness,  and 
beauty !  How  charming  she  was  this  evening,  when  her 
face  was  wet  with  tears.  Could  any  thing  be  more  an- 
gelic? What  a  sublime  expression  her  eyes  had  in 
speaking  of  him!  How  she  must  love  him!  And  I? 
She  loves  me  as  a  father.  She  told  me  so, — as  a  father. 
And  could  it  be  otherwise?  Is  it  not  justice?  Ought 
she  to  see  a  lover  in  this  magistrate,  sombre  and  severe, 
always  as  sad  as  his  black  costume?  Was  it  not  a 
crime  to  dream  of  uniting  that  virginal  simplicity  to  my 
detestable  worldly  science?  For  her,  the  future  is  yet 
the  land  of  smiling  chimeras ;  and  long  since  experience 
has  dissipated  all  my  illusions.  She  is  as  young  as  In- 
nocence :  I  am  as  old  as  Vice." 

The  unfortunate  magistrate  made  himself  veritably  a 
horror.  He  understood  Claire,  and  he  excused  her.  He 
even  wished  he  could  himself  suffer  the  sadness  he  had 
brought  upon  her.  He  reproached  himself  with  having 
cast  a  shadow  upon  her  life.  He  could  not  forgive  him- 
self for  having  spoken  of  his  love.  Ought  he  not  to  have 
foreseen  what  had  happened, — that  she  would  refuse 
him,  that  he  would  thus  deprive  himself  of  the  hap- 
piness of  seeing  her,  of  hearing  her,  of  silently  adoring 
her? 

"  A  young  and  romantic  girl,"  pursued  the  judge, 
"  must  have  a  lover  she  can  dream  of, — whom  she  can 
caress  in  imagination,  as  an  ideal,  pleasing  herself  by 
seeing  in  him  every  great  and  brilliant  quality,  imagin- 
ing him  full  of  nobleness,  of  bravery,  of  heroism.  What 
would  she  see,  if,  in  my  absence,  she  dreamed  of  me? 
Her  imagination  would  present  me  dressed  in  a  funeral 


146  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

robe,  in  the  depth  of  a  gloomy  dungeon,  engaged  with 
some  foul  criminal.  Is  it  not  my  trade  to  descend  into 
all  the  moral  sinks,  to  stir  up  the  foulness  of  crime? 
Am  I  not  compelled  to  wash  in  secrecy  and  shadow  the 
foul  linen  of  society?  Ah!  it  is  a  fatal  profession.  Am 
I  punished  thus,  because,  like  the  priest,  the  judge 
should  condemn  himself  to  solitude  and  celibacy?  Both 
know  all :  they  hear  all,  their  costumes  are  nearly  the 
same ;  but,  while  the  priest  in  the  fold  of  his  black  robe 
carries  consolation,  the  judge  carries  terror.  One  is 
mercy,  the  other  chastisement.  Such  are  the  images 
awakened;  while  the  other, — the  other — " 

The  wretched  man  continued  his  headlong  course 
along  the  deserted  quays. 

He  went  with  his  head  bareA  his  eyes  haggard.  To 
breathe  more  freely  he  had  torn  off  his  cravat  and 
thrown  it  to  the  winds. 

Sometimes,  unconsciously,  he  crossed  the  path  of  a 
solitary  wayfarer,  who  would  pause,  touched  with  pity, 
and  turn  to  watch  the  retreating  figure  of  the  unfor- 
tunate wretch  he  thought  deprived  of  reason. 

In  a  by-road,  near  Crenelle,  some  officers  stopped,  and 
tried  to  question  him.  He  mechanically  tendered  them 
his  card.  They  read  it,  and  permitted  him  to  pass,  con- 
vinced that  he  was  drunk. 

Anger, — a  furious  anger,  began  to  replace  his  first 
feeling  of  resignation.  In  his  heart  arose  a  hate, 
stronger  and  more  violent  than  even  his  love  for  Claire. 

This  other,  this  preferred,  this  noble  viscount,  who 
could  not  overcome  these  paltry  obstacles,  oh,  that  he 
had  him  there,  under  his  knee! 

At  this  moment,  this  noble  and  proud  man,  this  mag- 
istrate, so  severe  and  grave,  felt  an  irresistible  longing 
for  vengeance.  He  began  to  understand  the  hate  that 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  147 

armed  itself  with  the  poniard,  and  lay  in  ambush  in  dark 
corners;  which  struck  in  the  darkness,  whether  in  the 
face  or  in  the  back,  it  mattered  little,  but  which  struck, 
which  killed, — whose  vengeance  blood  alone  could  sat- 
isfy. 

At  this  very  hour,  he  was  charged  with  the  conduct 
of  an  inquiry  into  the  case  of  an  unfortunate  young  girl, 
accused  of  having  stabbed  one  of  her  wretched  com- 
panions. 

She  was  jealous  of  this  woman,  who  had  tried  to  take 
her  lover  from  her.  He  was  a  soldier,  very  fat  and  very 
ugly. 

Daburon  felt  himself  seized  with  pity  for  this  miser- 
able creature,,  whom  he  had  commenced  to  examine  the 
day  previous. 

She  was  very  ugly, — truly  repulsive ;  but  the  expres- 
sion of  her  eyes,  when  speaking  of  her  soldier,  returned 
to  the  memory  of  the  judge. 

"  She  loved  him  veritably,"  thought  he.  "  If  each  one 
of  her  jurors  could  suffer  what  I  am  suffering  now,  she 
would  be  acquitted.  But  how  many  men  have  had  in 
their  lives  a  passion  ?  Perhaps  not  one  in  twenty." 

He  resolved  to  recommend  this  girl  to  the  indulgence 
of  the  tribunal,  and  extenuate  as  much  as  he  could  the 
punishment  of  her  crime. 

He  had  himself  resolved  upon  the  commission  of  a 
crime. 

He  was  resolved  to  kill  Albert  de  Commarin. 

During  the  rest  of  the  night,  he  did  but  confirm  him- 
self in  this  resolution,  demonstrating  by  a  thousand 
mad  reasons,  which  he  found  solid  and  inscrutable,  the 
necessity  for  another  legitimacy  of  this  vengeance. 

At  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  found  himself  in 
an  alley  of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  not  far  from  the  lake. 


148  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

He  gained  the  Maillot  gate,  called  a  carriage,  and  was 
driven  to  his  house. 

The  delirium  of  the  night  continued,  but  without  suf- 
fering. He  was  conscious  of  no  fatigue, — calm  and 
cool  apparently,  but  under  the  empire  of  an  hallucina- 
tion,— in  a  state  approaching  somnambulism. 

He  reflected  and  reasoned,  but  without  reason. 

He  dressed  himself  with  care,  as  was  his  custom 
formerly  when  visiting  the  Marquise  d'Arlanges,  and 
went  out. 

He  first  called  at  an  armorers,  and  bought  a  small 
revolver,  which  he  caused  to  be  carefully  loaded  under 
his  own  eyes,  and  put  into  his  pocket.  He  threw  him- 
self in  the  way  of  persons  he  supposed  capable  of  in- 
forming him  to  what  club  the  viscount  belonged.  No 
one  perceived  the  strange  situation  of 'his  mind,  so  nat- 
ural were  his  manners  and  conversation. 

It  was  not  until  the  afternoon  he  found  a  young 
friend,  a  member  of  Albert  de  Commarin's  club,  who 
offered  to  conduct  him  thither  and  present  him. 

Daburon  accepted  warmly,  and  accompanied  his 
friend. 

While  passing  along  he  grasped  with  frenzy  the 
handle  of  the  revolver,  which  he  kept  concealed,  think- 
ing only  of  the  murder  he  determined  to  commit,  and 
the  means  of  insuring  the  accuracy  of  his  aim. 

"  This  will  make,"  thought  he,  "  a  terrible  scandal ; 
above  all,  if  I  do  not  succeed :  Well,  if  I  fail,  I  shall  go 
mad.  They  will  arrest  me, — throw  me  into  prison.  I 
shall  be  placed  upon  trial  at  the  court  of  assize,  my  narne 
dishonored!  Bast!  what  does  that  import  to  me?  I 
am  not  loved  by  Claire.  What  to  me  is  all  the  rest 
My  father  without  doubt  will  die  of  grief ;  but  /  must 
be  revenged." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  149 

Arrived  at  the  club,  his  friend  pointed  out  to  him  a 
very  distinguished  looking  young  man,  of  a  brown  com- 
plexion, with  a  haughty  air,  or  what  appeared  so  to  him, 
who,  seated  at  a  table,  was  reading  a  review.  It  was  the 
viscount. 

Daburon  marched  upon  him  without  drawing  his  re- 
volver. Arrived  within  two  paces,  his  heart  failed 
him:  he  turned  suddenly  and  fled,  leaving  his  friend 
astonished  at  a  scene,  to  him  utterly  inexplicable. 

Albert  de  Commarin  will  be  as  near  death  but  once 
again. 

When  he  reached  the  street,  Daburon  felt  the  ground 
flying  beneath  his  feet, — every  thing  turning  around 
him.  He  tried,  but  was  unable  to  cry  out :  he  struck  at 
the  air  with  his  hands,  reeled  an  instant,  and  then  fell 
helpless  on  the  pavement. 

The  passers  by  ran  and  assisted  the  police  to  raise 
him.  In  one  of  his  pockets  they  found  his  address,  and 
carried  him  to  his  house.  When  he  recovered  his  senses, 
he  lay  upon  his  bed,  at  the  foot  of  which  he  perceived 
his  father. 

"  What  has  taken  place  ?  "  he  asked.  With  much 
caution  they  told  him,  that  for  six  weeks  he  had  wavered 
between  life  and  death.  The  doctors  had  declared  his 
life  saved ;  and,  now  that  reason  was  restored,  all  would 
go  well. 

Five  minutes'  conversation  exhausted  him.  He  shut 
his  eyes,  and  tried  to  collect  his  ideas ;  but  they  whirled 
hither  and  thither  wildly,  as  autumn  leaves  in  the  wind. 
The  past  seemed  shrouded  in  a  dark  mist;  yet,  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  darkness  and  confusion,  the  memory  of 
his  scene  with  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  stood  out  be- 
fore his  mental  vision  clear  and  luminous.  All  his  ac- 
tions up  to  the  moment  when  he  embraced  Claire  were 


150  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

marked,  as  in  a  picture  strongly  drawn.  He  trembled ; 
and  his  hair  was  in  a  moment  damp  with  perspira- 
tion. 

He  had  failed  to  become  an  assassin. 

The  proof  that  he  was  restored  to  full  possession  of 
his  faculties  was,  that  a  question  of  criminal  law  crossed 
his  brain. 

"  The  crime  committed,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  should 
I  have  been  condemned?  Yes.  Was  I  responsible? 
No.  Would  an  action  committed  in  a  state  of  mental 
alienation  be  a  crime  ?  Was  I  mad  ?  Or  was  I  in  a  pe- 
culiar state  of  mind  which  always  precedes  an  illegal 
attempt?  Who  can  answer?  Why  have  not  all  judges 
passed  through  an  incomprehensible  crisis  such  as  mine  ? 
Who  would  believe  me,  were  I  to  recount  my  expe- 
rience ?  " 

Some  days  later,  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to 
tell  his  father  all.  The  old  gentleman  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  assured  him  it  was  but  a  reminiscence  of 
his  delirium. 

The  good  old  man  was  moved  at  the  story  of  his  son's 
luckless  wooing,  without  seeing  therein  an  irreparable 
misfortune.  He  advised  him  to  think  of  something  else, 
placed  at  his  disposal  his  entire  fortune,  and  recom- 
mended him  to  marry  a  stout  Poitevine  heiress,  very 
pretty  and  good  humored,  who  would  make  him  an  ex- 
cellent wife.  Then,  as  his  farm  was  suffering  by  his 
absence,  he  returned  to  his  province.  Two  months 
later,  the  judge  of  inquiry  had  resumed  his  ordinary 
avocations.  But  it  was  hard  work.  He  went  through 
his  duties  like  a  body  without  a  soul.  He  felt  that  his 
heart  was  broken. 

Once  he  ventured  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  old  friend,  the 
marquise.  On  seeing  him,  she  uttered  a  cry  of  terror. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  151 

She  took  him  for  a  spectre,  so  much  was  he  changed  in 
appearance. 

As  she  dreaded  dismal  figures,  she  shut  herself  from 
him  in  the  future. 

Claire  was  sick  for  a  week  after  seeing  him.  "  How 
he  loved  me !  "  thought  she.  "  He  has  almost  died  for 
me !  Does  Albert  love  me  as  much  ?  " 

She  did  not  dare  to  answer  herself.  She  felt  a  desire- 
to  console  him,  to  speak  to  him,  attempt  something ;  but 
he  came  no  more. 

Daburon  was  not,  however,  a  man  to  be  overthrown 
without  a  struggle.  He  tried,  as  his  father  advised  him, 
to  distract  his  thoughts.  He  sought  for  pleasure,  and 
found  disgust,  but  not  forget  fulness.  Often  he  went 
so  far  as  the  threshold  of  dissipation ;  always  the  pure 
figure  of  Claire,  dressed  in  white  garments,  barred  the 
doors  against  him. 

Then  he  took  refuge  in  work,  as  in  a  sanctuary ;  con- 
demned himself  to  the  most  incessant  labor,  forbade 
himself  to  think  of  Claire,  as  the  consumptive  forbids 
himself  to  recollect  his  malady. 

His  asperity  in  his  labor,  Kis  feverish  activity,  was 
worth  the  reputation  of  an  ambitious  man ;  but  he  took 
no  real  interest  in  any  thing. 

At  length,  though  he  found  not  rest,  this  engrossing 
occupation  exempted  him  from  the  sorrow  which  com- 
monly follows  a  great  catastrophe.  The  convalescence  of 
oblivion  commenced. 

These  were  the  events,  recalled  to  Daburon  by  Pere 
Tabaret,  in  pronouncing  the  name  of  Commarin.  He 
believed  them  buried  under  the  ashes  of  time ;  and  be- 
hold they  came  up,  as  those  characters  traced  in  sym- 
pathetic ink  appear  when  held  before  a  fire,  on  paper 
apparently  blank.  In  an  instant  they  unrolled  them- 


152  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

selves  before  his  memory,  with  the  instantaneousness  of 
a  dream,  annihilating  time  and  space. 

During  some  minutes,  he  assisted  at  the  representa- 
tion of  his  own  life.  At  once  actor  and  spectator,  he 
was  there  seated  in  his  arm-chair;  and  he  appeared  to 
himself  as  in  a  theatre.  He  acted,  and  he  judged  him- 
self. 

His  first  thought,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  one  of 
hate,  followed  by  a  detestable  sentiment  of  satisfaction. 
Chance  had  delivered  to  him  this  man  preferred  by 
Claire, — this  man  no  longer  a  haughty  gentleman,  illus- 
trious by  his  fortune  and  his  ancestors,  but  an  illegiti- 
mate offspring  of  a  femme  convert.  To  guard  a  stolen 
name,  he  had  committed  a  most  cowardly  assassination. 
And  he  the  judge,  was  to  experience  the  infinite  grati- 
fication of  striking  his  enemy  with  the  sword  of  justice. 

But  this  was  only  a  passing  thought.  The  conscience 
of  the  man  revolted  against  it,  and  made  its  powerful 
voice  heard  above  the  whispers  of  selfishness. 

"  Is  any  thing,"  it  cried,  "  more  monstrous  than  the 
association  of  these  two  ideas, — hatred  and  justice?  A 
judge.  Can  he,  without  despising  himself  more  than 
the  vile  beings  he  condemns,  remind  himself  that  a 
criminal  whose  fate  is  in  his  hands  has  been  his  enemy  ? 
A  judge  of  inquiry.  Has  he  a  right  to  sit  in  judgment 
on  a  man  against  whom  he  harbors  in  his  heart  one  drop 
of  gall?" 

Daburon  repeated  to  himself  many  times  during  the 
year,  on  commencing  an  inquiry, — 

"And  I  also, — I  almost  stained  myself  with  dread- 
ful murder !  " 

And  now  observe  what  he  was  about  to  do, — to  arrest, 
interrogate,  and  hand  over  to  the  court  of  assize  the 
man  he  had  once  the  firm  determination  to  kill. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  153 

All  the  world,  it  is  true,  ignores  the  crime  of  thought 
and  intention ;  but  could  he  himself  forget  it  ?  Was  not 
this,  of  all  others,  a  case  to  except  against,  to  give  his 
resignation?  Ought  he  not  to  withdraw,  and  wash  his 
hands  of  bloodshed,  leaving  to  another  the  care  of 
avenging  society? 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  it  would  be  a  cowardice  unworthy 
of  me." 

A  project  of  mad  generosity  came  to  him.  "  If  I  save 
him,"  murmured  he,  "  if  for  sake  of  Claire  I  leave  him 
his  honor  and  his  life, — but  how  can  I  save  him? — I 
shall  be  obliged  to  suppress  Pere  Tabaret's  testimony, 
and  impose  upon  him  the  complicity  of  silence.  It  will 
be  necessary  to  make  him  voluntarily  take  a  false  road, 
and  run  with  Gevrol  after  a  chimerical  murderer.  Is 
this  practicable?  On  the  other  hand,  to  spare  Albert  is 
to  defame  Noel;  it  is  to  assure  impunity  to  the  most 
odious  of  crimes.  In  fine,  it  is  to  sacrifice  human  jus- 
tice to  human  feeling." 

The  magistrate  suffered. 

How  to  choose  a  path  in  the  midst  of  so  many  per- 
plexities !  Dragged  each  way  by  different  interests,  he 
wavered,  undecided,  between  determinations  the  most 
opposite,  his  mind  oscillating  from  one  extreme  to  the 
other. 

What  to  do?  His  reason  after  this  new  and  unfore- 
seen shock  vainly  sought  to  regain  its  equilibrium. 

"  Retreat  ?  "  said  he  to  himself.  "  Where,  then,  is  my 
courage?  Ought  I  not  rather  to  remain  the  representa- 
tive of  the  law,  incapable  of  emotion,  insensible  to  preju- 
dice? Am  I  so  feeble  that,  in  assuming  my  role,  I  am 
unable  to  divest  myself  of  my  personality?  Can  I  not, 
for  the  present,  make  abstraction  of  the  past  ?  My  duty 
is  to  pursue  this  inquiry.  Claire  herself  would  order 


154  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

me  to  act  thus.  Would  she  desire  to  wed  a  man  soiled 
by  suspicion  of  a  crime  ?  Never.  For  Claire's  sake,  then, 
I  will  go  on ;  that,  if  innocent,  he  may  be  restored  to  her, 
and,  if  guilty,  she  may  be  delivered  from  all  further 
contact  with  a  man  so  unworthy  of  her  pure  affec- 
tion." 

This  was  very  strong  reasoning ;  but,  at  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  a  thousand  disquietudes  darted  their  thorns. 
He  wanted  something  more  to  reassure  him. 

"  Do  I  still  hate  this  young  man  ?  "  he  continued. 
"  No,  certainly.  If  Claire  has  preferred  him  to  me,  it  is 
to  Claire  and  not  him  I  owe  my  suffering.  My  fury  was 
no  more  than  a  passing  fit  of  delirium.  I  will  prove  it, 
by  letting  him  find  in  me  as  much  of  counsellor  as  judge. 
If  he  is  not  guilty,  he  will  dispose  of  all  this  formidable 
array  of  evidence,  placed  by  Pere  Tabaret  in  the  hands 
of  justice,  by  establishing  counter-proofs  of  his  inno- 
cence. Yes,  I  am  able  to  be  his  judge.  Heaven,  who 
reads  the  thoughts  of  all  hearts,  sees  that  I  love  Claire 
enough  to  wish  with  all  my  heart  the  innocence  of  her 
lover." 

At  this  moment,  M,  Daburon,  remembered  vaguely 
the  lapse  of  time. 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"  Goodness !  "  cried  he,  "  and  Pere  Tabaret  is  waiting 
for  me.  I  shall  find  him  asleep." 

But  Pere  Tabaret  was  not  asleep.  He  had  felt  the 
passage  of  time  no  more  than  the  judge. 

Ten  minutes  had  sufficed  him  to  take  an  inventory 
of  the  contents  of  Daburon's  study;  which  was  large, 
and  of  a  severe  magnificence,  altogether  in  accordance 
with  the  position  and  large  fortune  of  the  magistrate. 
Armed  with  a  lamp,  he  approached  six  very  handsome 
pictures,  which  broke  the  monotony  of  the  wainscoting, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  155 

and  admired  them.  He  examined  curiously  some  rare 
bronzes,  placed  upon  the  chimney-piece,  and  a  console. 
He  gave  the  bookcase  the  glance  of  a  connoisseur. 

After  which,  taking  an  evening  paper  from  the  table, 
he  approached  the  hearth,  and  plunged  into  a  vast  arm- 
chair. 

He  had  not  read  the  third  part  of  the  leading  article, 
— which,  Hke  all  the  leading  articles  of  the  time,  inter- 
ested itself  exclusively  with  the  Roman  question, — 
when,  letting  the  paper  drop  from  his  hands  he  became 
absorbed  in  meditation.  The  fixed  idea,  stronger  than 
his  will,  and  more  interesting  to  him  than  politics,  car- 
ried him  to  Jonchere,  where  lay  the  murdered  Widow 
Lerouge.  Like  the  child  who  builds  up  and  throws 
down  again  and  again  his  house  of  cards,  he  re-ar- 
ranged and  scattered  alternately  his  series  of  induc- 
tions and  evidence. 

Certainly  there  was  nothing  doubtful  or  questionable 
in  the  evidence.  From  A  to  Z,  he  knew  all.  He  knew 
what  his  own  impressions  had  been,  on  hearing  Noel's 
revelations ;  and  Daburon,  he  saw,  shared  his  opinions. 
What  difficulty  remained? 

There  is  between  the  judge  of  inquiry  and  the  ac- 
cused a  supreme  tribunal, — an  admirable  institution,  a 
powerful  moderator, — the  jury. 

The  jury,  thank  heaven !  does  not  content  itself  with 
a  moral  conviction.  The  strongest  probabilities  cannot 
draw  from  them  an  affirmative  verdict. 

Placed  upon  a  neutral  ground,  between  the  prosecu- 
tion and  the  defence,  it  demands  material  and  tangible 
proofs.  Where  the  magistrate  would  condemn  twenty 
times  for  one,  in  all  security  of  conscience,  the  jury  ac- 
quit for  lack  of  satisfying  evidence. 

The  deplorable  execution  of  Lesurques  has  certainly 


156  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

assured  impunity  to  many  criminals ;  but,  it  is  necessary 
to  say  it  justifies  hesitation  in  receiving  circumstantial 
evidence  in  capital  crimes. 

In  short,  save  where  a  criminal  is  taken  in  the  very 
act,  or  confesses  his  guilt,  it  is  not  certain  that  the  min- 
ister of  justice  can  secure  a  conviction.  Sometimes  the 
judge  of  inquiry  is  as  anxious  as  the  accused  himself. 
Nearly  all  crimes  are  in  some  particular  point  mysteri- 
ous, perhaps  impenetrable  to  justice  and  the  police;  and 
the  duty  of  the  advocate  is,  to  discover  this  weak  point, 
and  thereon  establish  his  client's  defence.  By  pointing 
out  this  doubt  to  the  jury,  he  insinuates  in  their  minds 
a  distrust  of  the  entire  evidence;  and  frequently  the 
detection  of  a  distorted  induction,  cleverly  exposed,  can 
change  the  face  of  a  prosecution,  and  make  a  strong 
case  appear  to  the  jury  a  weak  one.  This  uncertainty 
explains  the  character  of  passion  which  is  so  often  per- 
ceptible in  criminal  trials. 

And,  in  proportion  to  the  march  of  civilization,  juries 
in  important  trials  will  become  more  timid  and  hesitat- 
ing. The  weight  of  responsibility  oppresses  the  man  of 
conscientious  scruple.  Already  numbers  recoil  from  the 
idea  of  capital  punishment;  and,  whenever  a  jury  can 
find  a  peg  to  hang  a  doubt  on,  they  will  wash  their 
hands  of  the  responsibility  of  condemnation.  We  have 
seen  numbers  of  persons  signing  appeals  for  mercy  to 
a  condemned  malefactor,  condemned  for  what  crime? 
Parricide!  Every  juror,  from  the  moment  he  is  sworn, 
weighs  infinitely  less  the  evidence  he  has  come  to  listen 
to  than  the  risk  he  runs  of  incurring  the  pangs  of  re- 
morse. Rather  than  risk  the  condemnation  of  one  in- 
nocent man,  he  will  allow  twenty  scoundrels  to  go  un- 
punished. 

The  accusation  must,  then,  come  before  the  jury, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  157 

armed  at  all  points,  with  both  hands  full  of  proofs.  A 
task  often  tedious  to  the  judge  of  inquiry,  and  bristling 
with  difficulties,  is  the  arrangement  and  condensation 
of  this  evidence,  particularly  when  the  accused  is  a 
miscreant  of  strength  and  coolness,  certain  of  having 
left  no  traces  of  his  guilt.  Then,  from  the  depths  of  his 
dungeon  he  defies  the  assault  of  justice,  and  laughs  at 
the  judge  of  inquiry.  It  is  a  terrible  struggle,  enough 
to  make  one  tremble  at  the  responsibility  of  the  magis- 
trate, when  he  remembers,  that,  after  all,  this  man  im- 
prisoned, without  consolation  or  advice,  may  be  inno- 
cent. How  hard  is  it,  then,  for  the  judge  to  resist  his 
moral  convictions ! 

Even  when  presumptive  evidence  points  clearly  to  the 
criminal,  and  common  sense  recognizes  him,  Justice  is 
at  times  compelled  to  acknowledge  her  defeat,  for  lack 
of  what  the  jury  consider  sufficient  proof  of  guilt. 

Thus,  unhappily,  many  crimes  escape  punishment.  An 
old  advocate-general  one  day  confessed  that  he  knew 
as  many  as  three  assassins,  living  rich,  happy,  and  re- 
spected, who,  unless  from  some  improbable  accidents, 
would  end  by  dying  in  their  beds,  surrounded  by  their 
families,  being  followed  to  the  grave  with  lamentations, 
and  praised  for  their  virtues  in  their  epitaphs. 

At  the  idea  that  a  murderer  should  escape  the  penalty 
of  his  crime,  steal  himself  away  from  the  very  court  of 
assize,  Pere  Tabaret's  blood  fairly  boiled  in  his  veins, 
as  at  the  recollection  of  a  cruel  personal  injury. 

Such  a  monstrous  event,  in  his  opinion,  could  only 
proceed  from  the  incapacity  of  the  magistrates  charged 
with  the  prosecution,  the  maladdress  of  the  police,  or 
the  stupidity  of  the  judge  of  inquiry. 

"  It  is  not  I,"  he  muttered  with  the  satisfied  vanity  of 
success,  "  who  ever  let  my  prey  escape.  No  crime  can 


158  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

be  committed,  of  which  the  author  cannot  be  found  un- 
less he  happens  to  be  a  madman ;  in  which  event,  his  es- 
cape is  reasonable.  I  would  pass  my  life  in  pursuit  of  a 
criminal,  before  avowing  myself  vanquished,  as  this 
Gevrol  has  done  so  many  times." 

This  time  again,  Pere  Tabaret,  assisted  by  chance, 
had  succeeded,  he  repeated  to  himself;  but  what  proofs 
of  innocence  would  the  defence  present  to  this  accursed 
jury, — this  jury,  so  difficult  to  convince,  so  formal  and 
so  cowardly.  Who  could  imagine  what  means  might 
not  be  found  by  a  strong  man,  perfectly  on  his  guard, 
covered  by  his  position,  and  without  doubt  by  cunning 
precautions?  What  trap  had  he  prepared?  To  what 
new  and  infallible  stratagem  had  he  had  recourse  ? 

The  amateur  detective  exhausted  himself  in  subtle  but 
impracticable  combinations,  always  stopped  by  this  fatal 
jury,  so  obnoxious  to  the  chevaliers  of  the  Rue  Jerusa- 
lem. 

He  was  so  deeply  absorbed  in  his  thoughts  that  he 
did  not  hear  the  door  open,  and  continued  his  reflec- 
tions unconscious  of  the  judge's  presence. 

Daburon's  voice  aroused  him  from  his  reverie. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  M.  Tabaret,  for  having  left 
you  so  long  alone." 

The  old  fellow  rose  and  made  a  respectful  salutation 
at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 

"  By  my  faith,  monsieur,"  replied  he,  "  I  have  not 
had  the  leisure  to  perceive  my  solitude." 

Daburon  crossed  the  room,  and  seated  himself,  facing 
his  agent  before  a  small  table  encumbered  with  papers 
and  documents  relating  to  the  crime.  He  appeared  very 
much  fatigued. 

"  I  have  reflected  a  good  deal,"  he  commenced,  "  on 
all  this  affair—" 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  159 

"  And  I,"  interrupted  Pere  Tabaret,  "  was  just  ask- 
ing myself,  monsieur,  what  was  likely  to  be  the  attitude 
assumed  by  the  viscount  at  the  moment  of  his  arrest. 
Nothing  is  more  important,  according  to  my  theory, 
than  his  manner  of  conducting  himself  then.  Will  he 
attempt  to  intimidate  the  agents  ?  Will  he  threaten  them 
with  expulsion  from  the  house  ?  These  are  generally  the 
tactics  of  titled  criminals.  My  opinion,  however,  is, 
that  he  will  remain  perfectly  cool.  This  conclusion  is 
logical.  It  is  the  character  of  the  perpetrator  of  the 
crime  to  treat  the  ministers  of  justice  with  a  superb  as- 
surance. He  will  declare  himself  the  victim  of  a  misun- 
derstanding, and  insist  upon  an  immediate  interview 
with  the  judge  of  inquiry.  Once  that  is  accorded  to  him, 
he  will  finish  by  explaining  every  thing  very  quickly." 

The  old  fellow  spoke  of  matters  of  speculation  in 
such  a  tone  of  assurance  that  Daburon  was  unable  to  re- 
press a  smile. 

"  We  have  not  got  as  far  as  that  yet,"  said  he. 

"  But  we  shall,  in  some  hours,"  replied  Tabaret 
quickly.  "  I  presume  you  will  order  the  criminal's  ar- 
rest at  daybreak." 

The  judge  trembled,  as  the  patient  who  sees  the  sur- 
geon on  entering  deposit  his  case  of  instruments  upon 
the  table. 

The  moment  for  action  had  come.  He  felt  now  what 
a  distance  lies  between  a  mental  decision  and  the  physi- 
cal action  resulting  therefrom. 

"You  are  prompt,  M.  Tabaret,"  said  he;  "you  rec- 
ognize no  obstacles." 

"  None,  having  ascertained  the  criminal.  Who  else 
can  have  committed  this  assassination?  Who  but  he 
had  an  interest  in  silencing  the  Widow  Lerouge,  in 
suppressing  her  testimony,  in  destroying  her  papers? 


160  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Poor  Noel!  who  is  as  dull  as  honesty,  has  been  fore- 
stalled by  this  wretch,  who  stops  at  nothing.  Noel  has 
instituted  proceedings  to  recover  his  title  and  estates. 
Should  the  guilt  of  the  assassin  fail  to  be  established, 
he  will  remain  de  Cammarin  more  than  ever;  and  my 
young  advocate  will  be  Noel  Gerdy  to  the  grave." 

"  Yes,  but—" 

The  amateur  fixed  upon  the  judge  a  look  of  astonish- 
ment. 

"  You  see,  then,  some  difficulties,  monsieur?  "  he  de- 
manded. 

"  Without  doubt !  "  replied  Daburon.  "  This  is  a  mat- 
ter demanding  the  utmost  circumspection.  In  cases  like 
the  present,  we  must  not  strike  until  the  blow  is  sure; 
and  we  have  but  presumptions.  We  must  not  deceive 
ourselves.  Justice,  unhappily,  cannot  repair  her  errors. 
Her  hand  once  placed  upon  a  man,  even  if  unjustly, 
leaves  an  imprint  of  dishonor  that  can  never  be  effaced. 
She  may  perceive  her  error,  and  proclaim  it  aloud ;  but 
in  vain.  Public  opinion, — absurd,  idiotic  opinion, — par- 
dons not  the  man  guilty  of  the  crime  of  being  sus- 
pected." 

It  was  with  a  sinking  heart  the  old  fellow  heard  these 
remarks.  He  would  not  be1  the  man  to  be  withheld  by 
such  mean  considerations. 

"  Our  suspicions  are  well  grounded,"  continued  the 
judge.  "  But,  should  they  lead  us  into  error,  our  pre- 
cipitation would  be  a  terrible  misfortune  for  this  young 
man,  to  say  nothing  of  the  effect  it  would  have  in 
abridging  the  authority  and  dignity  of  Justice,  of  weak- 
ening the  respect  which  constitutes  her  power.  Such  a 
mistake  would  call  for  discussion,  provoke  examination, 
and  awaken  distrust,  at  an  epoch  in  our  history  when 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  161 

all  minds  are  but  too  much  disposed  to  defy  the  consti- 
tuted authorities." 

He  leaned  upon  the  table,  and  appeared  to  reflect  pro- 
foundly. 

"  No  chance,"  thought  Pere  Tabaret.  "  I  have  to  do 
with  a  trembler.  When  he  should  act,  he  makes 
speeches ;  instead  of  signing  mandates,  he  propounds 
theories.  He  is  stunned  by  .my  discovery,  and  is  not 
equal  to  the  situation.  Instead  of  being  delighted  by 
my  appearance  with  the  news  of  our  success,  he  would 
have  given  a  louis,  II  dare  say,  to  have  been  left  to 
slumber  undisturbed  in  thick  ignorance.  Ah !  he  would 
very  willingly  have  the  little  fishes  in  his  net;  but  the 
big  ones  frighten  him :  the  big  fish  are  dangerous ;  and 
he  lets  them  swim  away." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Daburon  in  a  loud  tone,  "  it  will 
suffice  to  issue  a  mandate  of  inquiry,  and  another  of 
requisition  for  the  appearance  of  the  accused." 

"  Then  all  is  lost !  "  cried  Pere  Tabaret. 

"  And  why,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,  we  are  opposed  by  a  criminal  of  marked 
ability.  The  crime  has  been  executed  with  the  most 
subtle  premeditation.  A  most  providential  accident 
alone,  almost  a  miracle,  has  placed  us  upon  the  track 
of  discovery.  If  we  give  him  time  to  breathe,  he  will 
escape." 

The  only  answer  was  an  inclination  of  the  head; 
which  Daburon  might  have  intended  for  a  sign  of  as- 
sent. 

"  It  is  evident,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "  that  our 
adversary  has  foreseen  every  thing,  absolutely  every 
thing,  except  the  possibility  of  suspicion  attaching  to 
one  in  his  high  position.  Oh!  his  precautions  are  all 


162  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

taken.  If  you  are  satisfied  with  demanding  his  appear- 
ance, he  is  saved.  He  will  enter  your  cabinet  of  inquiry 
as  tranquilly  as  your  clerk,  as  unconcerned  as  if  he  came 
to  arrange  the  preliminaries  of  a  duel.  He  will  present 
you  with  a  magnificent  alibi,  an  alibi  that  cannot  be 
gainsaid.  He  will  show  you  that  he  passed  the  even- 
ing and  the  night  of  Tuesday  with  personages  of  the 
highest  rank.  He  has  dined  with  the  Count  de  Machin, 
gamed  with  the  Marquis  of  so  and  so,  and  supped  with 
the  Duke  of  what's  his  name.  The  Baroness  of  this  and 
the  Viscountess  of  that  have  not  lost  sight  of  him  for  a 
minute.  In  short,  his  little  machine  will  be  so  cleverly 
constructed,  so  nicely  arranged,  all  its  little  wheels  will 
play  so  well,  that  there  will  be  nothing  left  for  you  but 
to  open  the  door  and  usher  him  out  with  the  most  hum- 
ble apologies.  The  only  means  of  securing  conviction 
is  to  surprise  the  miscreant  by  a  rapidity  against  which 
it  is  impossible  he  can  be  on  guard.  Fall  upon  him  like 
a  thunderclap,  arrest  him  as  he  awakes,  drag  him  hither 
while  yet  pale  with  astonishment,  and  interrogate  at 
once." 

Pere  Tabaret  stopped  short,  frightened  at  the  idea 
that  he  had  been  wanting  in  respect;  but  Daburon 
showed  no  sign  of  being  offended. 

"  Proceed,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  encouragement, 
"  proceed." 

"  Then,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "  I  am  a  judge 
of  inquiry.  I  cause  my  man  to  be  arrested ;  and,  twenty 
minutes  later,  he  is  standing  before  me.  I  do  not  amuse 
myself  by  putting  questions  to  him,  more  or  less  subtle. 
No,  I  go  right  to  the  mark.  I  overwhelm  him  at  once 
by  the  weight  of  my  certainty,  prove  to  him  so  clearly 
that  I  know  every  thing,  that  he  must  surrender,  seeing 
no  chance  of  escape.  I  should  say  to  him,  '  My  good 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  163 

man,  you  bring  me  an  alibi;  it  is  very  well :  but  we  are 
acquainted  with  this  system  of  defence.  It  will  not  do 
with  me.  Of  course  I  understand  you  have  been  else- 
where at  the  hour  of  the  crime;  an  hundred  persons 
have  never  lost  sight  of  you :  It  is  all  admitted.  In  the 
mean  time,  here  is  what  you  have  done.  At  twenty  min- 
utes after  eight,  you  slipped  away  adroitly ;  at  thirty-five 
minutes  past  eight,  you  took  the  train  at  Rue  St.  La- 
zare;  at  nine  o'clock,  you  descended  at  the  station  at 
Rueil,  and  took  the  road  to  Jonchere;  at  a  quarter  past 
nine,  you  knocked  at  the  window-shutter  of  the  Widow 
Lerouge's  cottage.  You  were  admitted.  You  asked 
for  something  to  eat,  and,  above  all,  something  to  drink. 
At  twenty  minutes  past  nine,  you  planted  the  end  of  a 
foil,  well-sharpened,  between  her  shoulders.  You  killed 
her !  You  then  overturned  every  thing  in  the  house,  and 
burned  certain  papers  of  importance ;  after  which,  you 
tied  in  a  napkin  all  the  valuables  you  could  find,  and  car- 
ried them  off,  to  lead  the  police  to  believe  the  murder 
was  the  work  of  a  robber.  You  locked  the  door,  and 
threw  away  the  key. 

' '  Arrived  at  the  Seine  you  threw  the  bundle  into  the 
water,  and  then  regained  the  railway  station  on  foot; 
and,  at  eleven  o'clock,  you  re-appeared  in  the  company, 
where  your  absence  was  unnoticed.  Your  game  was  well 
played ;  but  you  omitted  to  provide  against  two  adversa- 
ries, an  agent  of  police,  not  easily  deceived,  named 
Tirauclair,  and  another  still  more  capable,  named 
chance. 

"  '  Between  the  two,  they  have  made  you  lose  the 
game.  Moreover,  you  were  wrong  to  wear  fine  boots,  and 
to  keep  on  your  pearl  gray  gloves,  besides  embarrassing 
yourself  with  a  silk  hat  and  an  umbrella.  Now  confess 
your  guilt,  and  save  the  trouble  of  a  trial;  and  I  will 


164  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

give  you  permission  to  smoke  in  your  dungeon  some  of 
those  trabucos  you  are  so  fond  of,  and  which  you  smoke 
always  with  an  amber  mouthpiece.'  " 

During  this  speech,  delivered  with  extraordinary  vol- 
ubility, Pere  Tabaret  had  gained  a  couple  of  inches  in 
height,  so  great  was  his  enthusiasm.   He  looked  at  the ' 
magistrate,  as  if  requesting  a  smile  of  approval. 

"  Yes,"  continued  he,  after  taking  breath,  "  I  would 
say  this,  and  nothing  else;  and,  unless  this  man  is  a 
hundred  times  stronger  than  I  suppose  him  to  be,  unless 
he  is  made  of  bronze,  of  marble,  or  of  steel,  he  would 
fall  at  my  feet  and  avow  his  guilt." 

"  And  then  if  he  were  of  bronze,"  said  Daburon,  "  and 
did  not  fall  at  your  feet,  what  would  you  do  next  ?  " 

The  question  evidently  embarrassed  the  old  fellow. 

"  Pshaw !  "  stammered  he ;  "  I  don't  know ;  I  should 
see.  I  would  search.  But  he  would  confess." 

After  a  prolonged  silence,  Daburon  took  a  pen,  and 
wrote  in  haste, — 

"  I  surrender,"  said  he.  "  M.  Albert  de  Commarin 
shall  be  arrested.  It  is  decided ;  but  the  formalities  and 
inquiries  will  occupy  some  time,  which  I  wish  to  use  by 
first  interrogating  the  Count  de  Commarin,  the  young 
man's  father,  and  this  young  advocate,  your  friend  M. 
Noel  Gerdy,  also,  in  examination  of  the  letters  of  which 
you  speak ;  they  are  indispensable  to  me." 

At  the  name  of  Gerdy,  Pere  Tabaret's  face  assumed 
a  most  comical  expression  of  uneasiness. 

"  Confound  it,"  cried  he,  "  the  very  thing  I  have 
most  dreaded." 

"  What?  "  demanded  Daburon. 

"  The  necessity  for  the  examination  of  those  letters. 
Noel  will  discover  my  interference.  He  will  despise  me: 
he  will  fly  from  me,  when  he  knows  that  Tabaret  and 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  165 

Tirauclair  sleep  in  the  same  nightcap.  Before  eight 
days,  my  oldest  friends  will  refuse  to  take  my  hand,  as 
if  it  were  not  an  honor  to  serve  justice.  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  change  my  residence,  and  assume  a  false 
name." 

He  almost  wept,  so  great  was  his  annoyance.  Dabu- 
rcn  was  touched. 

"  Reassure  yourself,  my  dear  Tabaret,"  said  he.  "  I 
will  manage  that  your  adopted  son,  your  Benjamin, 
shall  know  nothing.  I  shall  lead  him  to  believe  I  have 
reached  him  by  means  of  the  widow's  papers." 

The  old  fellow  seized  the  judge's  hand  in  a  transport 
of  gratitude,  and  carried  it  to  his  lips. 

"  Oh !  thanks,  monsieur,  a  thousand  thanks !  I  beg 
to  be  permitted  to  witness  the  arrest ;  and  I  shall  be  glad 
to  assist  at  the  examination." 

"  I  expected  you  would  ask  it,  M.  Tabaret,"  answered 
the  judge. 

The  lamps  paled  in  the  gray  dawn  of  the  morning; 
the  rumbling  of  vehicles  was  heard  in  the  distance: 
Paris  was  awaking. 

"  I  have  no  time  to  lose,"  continued  Daburon,  "  if  I 
would  have  all  my  measures  well  taken.  I  must  at  once 
see  the  procurer  imperial,  awake  him,  if  necessary.  I 
will  go  from  his  house  directly  to  the  palace  of  justice. 
I  shall  be  in  my  cabinet  before  eight  o'clock ;  and  I  de- 
sire, M.  Tabaret,  you  will  there  await  my  orders." 

The  magistrate's  servant  appeared. 

"  A  note,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "  brought  by  a  gen- 
darme from  Bougival.  He  waits  an  answer." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Daburon.  "  Ask  the  man  to 
have  some  refreshment;  at  least  offer  him  a  glass  of 
wine." 

He  opened  the  envelope. 


166  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Ah !  "  he  cried,  "  a  letter  from  Gevrol ; "  and  he 
read, — 

"  '  To  THE  JUDGE  OF  INQUIRY, — • 

'  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you,  that  I  am  on  the 
track  of  the  man  of  the  ear-rings.  I  heard  of  him  at  a 
wine  shop,  which  he  entered  on  Sunday  morning,  be- 
fore going  to  the  Widow  Lerouge's  cottage.  He  drank, 
and  paid  for  two  litres  of  wine ;  then,  suddenly  striking 
his  forehead,  he  cried,  "  Old  stupid !  to  forget  that  to- 
morrow is  the  boat's  fete  day !  "  and  demanded  another 
litre  of  wine.  I  consulted  the  almanac;  it  was  the  fete 
of  St.  Martin,  which  I  therefore  take  to  be  the  name  of 
the  boat.  I  have  also  learned  that  she  was  laden  with 
grain.  I  write  to  the  prefecture  at  the  same  time  as  I 
write  to  you,  that  inquiries  may  be  made  at  Paris  and 
Rouen.  He  must  be  found  at  one  of  these  places. 
"  '  I  am  in  waiting,  monsieur,  etc.'  " 

"  Poor  Gevrol !  "  cried  Pere  Tabaret,  bursting  with 
laughter.  "  He  sharpens  his  sabre,  and  the  battle  is  over. 
Are  you  not  going  to  put  a  stop  to  his  researches,  mon- 
sieur? " 

"  No ;  certainly  not,"  answered  Daburon ;  "  to  neglect 
the  slightest  clew  might  lead  to  error.  Who  can  tell 
what  light  we  may  receive  from  this  old  mariner  with 
the  rings  in  his  ears  ?  " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ON  the  same  day  that  the  crime  of  Jonchere  was  dis- 
covered, and  precisely  at  the  hour  when  Pere  Tabaret 
made  his  memorable  examination  in  the  victim's  cham- 
ber, the  Viscount  Albert  de  Commarin  entered  a  car- 
riage, and  proceeded  to  the  Gate  du  Nord,  to  meet  his 
father. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  167 

The  young  man  was  very  pale,  his  features  pinched, 
his  eyes  dull,  his  lips  blanched,  his  whole  appearance  de- 
noting either  overwhelming  fatigue  or  unusual  sor- 
row. 

All  the  servants  had  observed,  that,  during  the  past 
five  days,  their  young  master  was  not  in  his  ordinary 
condition :  he  spoke  with  effort,  ate  almost  nothing,  and 
forbade  the  admission  of  visitors. 

His  valet  remarked  that  this  singular  alteration  dated 
from  the  visit,  on  Sunday  morning,  of  a  certain  M. 
Noel  Gerdy,  advocate,  who  had  been  closeted  with  him 
for  three  hours  in  the  library. 

The  viscount,  gay  as  a  lark  until  the  arrival  of  this 
person,  had,  from  the  moment  of  his  departure,  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  man  at  the  point  of  death,  or  filled  with 
remorse  for  the  commission  of  a  terrible  crime. 

At  the  moment  of  setting  forth  to  meet  his  father,  the 
viscount  appeared  to  suffer  so  acutely  that  Lubin,  his 
valet,  entreated  him  not  to  expose  himself  to  the  cold ;  it 
would  be  more  prudent  to  retire  to  his  room,  and  call  in 
the  doctor. 

But  the  Count  de  Commarin,  his  son  knew,  was  ex- 
acting on  the  score  of  filial  duty,  and  would  overlook  the 
worst  of  youthful  indiscretions  sooner  than  what  he 
termed  a  want  of  reverence.  He  had  announced  his  in- 
tended arrival  by  telegraph,  twenty-four  hours  in  ad- 
vance ;  therefore  the  house  was  expected  to  be  in  per- 
fect readiness  to  receive  him :  and  the  absence  of  Albert 
at  the  railway  station  would  have  been  resented  as  a  fla- 
grant omission  of  duty. 

The  viscount  had  been  but  five  minutes  in  the  waiting 
room,  when  the  bell  announced  the  arrival  of  the  train. 
Soon  the  doors  leading  to  the  platform  were  opened, 
and  the  depot  became  filled  with  travellers. 


i68  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  throng  beginning  to  thin  a  little,  the  count  ap- 
peared, followed  by  a  servant,  who  carried  a  travelling 
pelisse  lined  with  expensive  fur. 

The  Count  de  Commarin  looked  a  good  ten  years  less 
than  his  age.  His  beard  and  hair,  yet  abundant,  were 
scarcely  grey.  He  was  tall  and  muscular,  held  himself 
upright,  and  carried  his  head  high, — all  this  without  any 
of  the  ungracious  British  manner,  so  much  affected  by 
our  young  men  of  the  present  day.  His  appearance  was 
noble,  his  movements  easy.  His  hands  were  strong  and 
handsome, — the  hands  of  a  man  whose  ancestors  have 
been  for  centuries  familiar  with  swordhilts.  His  regu- 
lar features  presented  a  study  to  the  physiognomist,  all 
expressing  easy,  careless  good  nature,  even  to  the  hand- 
some, smiling  mouth;  except  his  eyes,  in  whose  clear 
depths  flashed  the  fiercest,  most  arrogant  pride.  This 
contrast  revealed  the  secret  of  his  character.  Imbued 
quite  as  deeply  with  aristocratic  prejudice  as  the  Mar- 
quise d'Arlanges,  he  had  progressed  with  his  century, 
or  at  least  appeared  to  have  done  so.  As  fully  as  the 
marquise,  he  held  in  contempt  all  who  were  not  noble; 
but  his  disdain  expressed  itself  in  different  fashion.  The 
marquise  proclaimed  her  contempt  loudly  and  coarsely ; 
the  count  dissimulated,  beneath  an  excess  of  politeness 
humiliating  to  its  object,  a  feeling  of  disgust  equally 
excessive.  The  marquise  willingly  admitted  her  trades- 
people to  familiar  conversation.  The  count,  one  day 
when  his  architect  let  fall  his  umbrella,  picked  it  up  and 
returned  it  to  him.  The  marquise  had  lived  with  her 
eyes  bandaged,  her  ears  closed ;  the  count  had  kept  eyes 
and  ears  open  and  had  seen  and  heard  a  good  deal.  She 
was  stupid,  and  without  the  protection  of  common 
sense.  He  was  witty  and  sensible,  and  possessed  en- 
larged views  of  life  and  politics.  She  dreamed  of  the 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  169 

return  of  the  absurd  traditions  of  a  former  age,  and  the 
restoration  of  effete  monarchies,  imagining  that  the 
years  could  be  turned  back  like  the  hands  of  a  clock. 
He  hoped  for  things  within  the  power  of  events  to  bring 
forth.  For  example,  he  was  sincerely  persuaded  the  no- 
bles of  France  would  yet  recover  slowly  and  silently, 
but  surely,  all  their  lost  power,  with  its  prestige  and  in- 
fluence. 

But,  in  the  end,  they  belonged  to  the  same  order. 
They  were  both  aristocrats.  The  count  was  a  flat- 
tered portrait  of  his  class;  the  marquise  its  carica- 
ture. 

It  should  be  added  that  M.  de  Commarin  knew  how  to 
divest  himself  of  his  crushing  urbanity  in  the  company 
of  his  equals.  There  he  recovered  his  true  character, — 
haughty,  self-sufficient,  and  intractable,  enduring  con- 
tradiction pretty  much  as  a  wild  horse  the  application 
of  the  spur. 

In  his  own  house,  he  was  a  despot. 

Perceiving  his  father,  Albert  advanced,  and  embraced 
him  with  an  air  equally  noble  and  ceremonious,  and,  in 
less  than  a  minute,  had  expressed  in  well-chosen  phrase 
all  the  news  that  had  transpired  during  his  absence,  and 
the  compliments  of  the  journey. 

Then  only  M.  de  Commarin  perceived  the  so  visible 
alteration  in  his  son's  .face. 

"  You  are  not  well,  viscount?  "  asked  he. 

"  Oh,  yes,  monsieur !  "  answered  Albert,  dryly. 

The  count  gave  an  "  Ah !  "  accompanied  by  a  certain 
movement  of  the  head — a  habitual  trick  with  him,  ex- 
pressing perfect  incredulity;  then,  turning  to  his  ser- 
vant, he  gave  him  some  orders  briefly. 

"  Now,"  resumed  he,  "  let  us  go  quickly  to  the  house. 
I  am  in  haste  to  feel  at  home ;  and  I  am  hungry,  having 


170  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

had  nothing  to-day  but  some  detestable  bouillon,  at  I 
know  not  what  way  station." 

M.  de  Commarin  arrived  in  Paris  in  very  ill-humor: 
his  journey  into  Austria  had  not  brought  the  results  he 
hoped  for. 

To  crown  his  dissatisfaction,  he  had  rested,  on  his 
homeward  way,  at  the  house  of  an  old  friend,  with 
whom  he  had  so  violent  a  discussion  that  they  parted 
without  shaking  hands. 

The  count  was  hardly  seated  in  his  carriage,  which 
started  at  a  gallop,  before  he  entered  upon  the  subject 
of  this  disagreement. 

"  I  have  quarrelled  with  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse," 
said  he. 

"  That  seems  to  me  to  happen  whenever  you  meet," 
answered  Albert,  without  intending  any  raillery. 

"  True,"  said  the  count ;  "  but  this  is  serious.  I 
passed  four  days  at  his  country-seat,  in  a  state  of  in- 
conceivable exasperation.  He  has  been  guilty  of  an  act 
which  lowers  him  in  my  estimation  beyond  recovery! 
Sairmeuse  has  sold  his  estate  of  Gondresy, — one  of  the 
finest  in  the  north  of  France.  He  cut  down  the  timber, 
and  put  up  to  auction  the  old  chateau, — a  princely 
dwelling,  now  to  be  converted  into  a  sugar  refinery ;  all 
this  for  the  purpose,  as  he  says,  of  raising  money  to  meet 
some  legal  obligations — debts  or  settlements,  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind !  " 

"  And  was  that  the  cause  of  your  rupture  ?  "  inquired 
Albert,  without  much  surprise. 

"  Certainly  it  was  ?  "  Do  you  not  think  it  a  sufficient 
one?" 

"  But,  monsieur,  you  know  the  duke  has  a  large  fam- 
ily, and  is  far  from  rich." 

"What  matters  that?   A  noble  of  France  who  sells 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  171 

his  land  commits  an  unworthy  act.  He  is  guilty  of  trea- 
son against  his  order !  " 

"  O  monsieur !  "  said  Albert,  deprecatingly. 

"  I  said  treason !  "  continued  the  count.  "  I  maintain 
the  position.  Remember  well,  viscount,  the  power  has 
been,  and  always  will  be,  on  the  side  of  wealth, — the 
strongest  right  with  those  who  hold  the  soil.  The  men 
of  '93  well  understood  this  principle,  and  acted  upon  it. 
By  impoverishing  the  nobility,  they  destroyed  their  pres- 
tige more  effectually  than  by  abolishing  their  titles.  A 
prince  dismounted,  and  without  retinue, — that  is,  with- 
out means  to  retain  them, — is  a  ridiculous  figure !  The 
minister  of  July,  who  said  to  the  people,  '  Make  your- 
selves rich,'  was  not  a  fool.  He  gave  them  the  magic 
formula  for  power.  But  they  have  not  the  sense  to  un- 
derstand it.  They  want  to  go  too  fast.  They  launch 
into  speculations,  and  become  rich,  it  is  true;  but  in 
what?  Stocks,  bonds,  paper, — rags,  in  short.  It  is 
smoke  they  are  locking  in  their  coffers.  They  prefer  to 
invest  in  merchandise,  which  pays  eight  or  ten  per  cent, 
to  investing  in  vines  or  corn  which  will  return  but  three. 
The  peasant  is  not  so  foolish.  From  the  moment  he 
owns  a  piece  of  ground  the  size  of  a  handkerchief,  he 
wants  to  make  it  as  large  as  a  tablecloth.  He  is  slow  as 
the  oxen  he  ploughs  with,  but  as  patient,  as  tenacious, 
and  as  obstinate.  He  goes  directly  to  his  object,  press- 
ing firmly  against  the  yoke;  and  nothing  can  stop  or 
turn  him  aside.  He  knows  that  stocks  may  rise  or  fall, 
fortunes  be  won  or  lost  on  'change ;  but  the  land  always 
remains, — the  real  standard  of  wealth.  To  become  land- 
holders, the  peasant  starves  himself,  wears  sabots  in 
winter ;  and  the  imbeciles  who  laugh  at  him  will  be  as- 
tonished by  and  by  when  he  makes  his  '93,  and  the  peas- 
ant becomes  a  baron  in  power  if  not  in  name." 


172  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  I  do  not  understand  the  application,"  said  the  vis- 
count. 

"  You  do  not  understand  ?  Why,  what  the  peasant  is 
doing  is  what  the  nobles  ought  to  have  done !  Ruined, 
their  duty  was  to  reconstruct  their  fortunes.  Commerce 
is  interdicted  to  us ;  be  it  so :  agriculture  remains.  In- 
stead of  grumbling  uselessly  during  the  half-century, 
instead  of  running  themselves  into  debt,  in  the  ridicu- 
lous attempt  to  support  an  appearance  of  grandeur,  they 
ought  to  have  retreated 'to  their  provinces,  shut  them- 
selves up  in  their  chateaux ;  there  worked,  economized, 
denied  themselves,  as  the  peasant  is  doing,  purchased 
the  land  piece  by  piece.  Had  they  taken  this  course, 
they  would  to-day  possess  France.  Their  wealth  would 
be  enormous ;  for  the  value  of  land  rises  year  after  year. 
I  have,  without  effort,  doubled  my  fortune  in  thirty 
years.  Blauville,  which  cost  my  father  a  hundred  crowns 
in  1817,  is  worth  to-day  more  than  a  million:  so  that, 
when  I  hear  the  nobles  complain,  I  shrug  the  shoulder. 
Who  but  they  are  to  blame?  They  impoverish  them- 
selves from  year  to  year.  They  sell  their  land  to  the 
peasants.  Soon  they  will  be  reduced  to  beggary,  and 
their  escutcheons.  What  consoles  me  is,  that  the  peas- 
ant, having  become  the  proprietor  of  our  domains,  will 
then  be  all-powerful,  and  will  yoke  to  his  chariot  wheels 
these  traders  in  scrip  and  stocks,  whom  he  hates  as 
much  as  I  execrate  them  myself." 

The  carriage  at  this  moment  stopped  in  the  court  of 
the  Hotel  Commarin,  after  having  described  that  per- 
fect circle,  the  glory  of  coachmen  who  preserve  the  old 
traditions. 

The  count  alighted  from  the  carriage,  leaning  upon 
his  son's  arm,  and  ascended  the  steps  of  the  grand  en- 
trance. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  173 

In  the  immense  vestibule,  nearly  all  the  servants, 
dressed  in  rich  liveries,  stood  in  a  line. 

The  count  gave  them  a  glance,  in  passing,  as  an  offi- 
cer might  his  soldiers  on  parade,  and  proceeded  to  his 
apartments  upon  the  second  floor,  above  the  reception 
rooms. 

Never  was  there  a  better  regulated  household  than 
that  of  the  Hotel  de  Commarin, — a  considerable  estab- 
lishment, too;  for  the  count's  fortune  enabled  him  to 
sustain  a  retinue  greater  than  that  of  a  German  prince. 
He  possessed  in  a  high  degree  the  art,  more  rare  than  is 
generally  supposed,  of  commanding  an  army  of  ser- 
vants. 

According  to  Riviral,  a  man's  manner  of  giving  an 
order  to  a  lackey  establishes  his  rank  better  than  a  hun- 
dred genealogies  on  parchment. 

The  number  of  his  domestics  gave  the  count  neither 
inconvenience  nor  embarrassment.  They  were  necessary 
to  him.  Although  he  was  exacting,  never  permitting  the 
expression,  "  I  did  not  understand,"  he  was  rarely 
heard  to  administer  a  reproof. 

So  perfect  was  the  organization  of  this  household, 
that  its  functions  were  performed  like  those  of  a  ma- 
chine,— without  noise,  variation,  or  effort. 

Thus,  when  the  count  returned  from  his  journey,  the 
sleeping  hotel  was  awakened  as  if  by  the  spell  of  an  en- 
chanter. Each  servant  was  at  his  post ;  and  the  occupa- 
tions, interrupted  during  the  past  six  weeks,  resumed 
without  confusion.  As  the  count  was  known  to  have 
passed  the  day  on  the  road,  the  dinner  was  served  in 
advance  of  the  usual  hour.  All  the  establishment,  even 
to  the  lowest  scullion,  represented  the  spirit  of  the  first 
article  of  the  rules  of  the  house,  "  Servants  are  not  to 
execute  orders,  but  anticipate  them." 


174  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

M.  de  Commarin  had  hardly  removed  the  traces  of 
his  journey,  and  changed  his  dress,  when  his  Maitre  d' 
Hotel  announced, — 

"  M.  le  Count  is  served." 

He  descended  at  once ;  and  father  and  son  met  upon 
the  threshold  of  the  dining-room. 

This  was  a  large  apartment,  very  high  in  the  ceiling, 
as  were  all  the  rooms  of  the  first  floor,  and  was  at  once 
magnificent  and  simple  in  its  furniture  and  appoint- 
ments. 

One  only  of  its  four  sideboards  would  have  encum- 
bered a  dining-room  of  the  Rue  Male'scherhes. 

A  collector  of  curiosities  would  have  found  much  to 
occupy  his  attention  on  those  four  sideboards,  loaded  as 
they  were  with  antique  gold  and  silver  plate,  rare  en- 
amels, marvellous  china,  and  porcelain  that  might  make 
a  king  of  Saxony  turn  green  with  jealousy. 

The  table  service,  resplendent  in  silver  and  cut  glass, 
which  occupied  the  middle  of  the  room,  was  in  keeping 
with  this  luxury. 

The  count  was  not  only  a  great  eater,  but  was  vain  of 
his  enormous  appetite, — the  possession  of  which  would 
have  been  to  a  poor  devil  an  awful  calamity.  He  was 
fond  of  recalling  the  names  of  great  men,  noted  for 
their  capacity  of  stomach.  Charles  the  fifth  devoured 
mountains  of  viands.  Louis  XIV.  swallowed  at  each 
repast  as  much  as  six  ordinary  men.  He  argued,  pleas- 
antly, that  we  may  judge  of  men's  qualities  by  their  di- 
gestive capacities.  He  compared  them  to  lamps,  whose 
power  of  giving  light  is  in  proportion  to  t'ne  oil  they 
consume. 

The  first  half  hour  of  dinner  passed  in  silence.  M.  de 
Commarin  ate  conscientiously,  either  not  perceiving  or 
not  caring  to  notice  that  his  son  ate  nothing,  but  merely 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  175 

sat  at  the  table  as  if  to  countenance  him.  But  with  the 
dessert  the  old  nobleman's  ill-humor  and  volubility  re- 
turned, apparently  increased  by  the  Burgundy,  which 
he  drank  unsparingly. 

He  was  partial,  moreover,  to  after  dinner  argument, 
professing  a  theory  that  spirited  discussion  is  a  perfect 
digestive.  A  letter  which  had  been  delivered  to  him  on 
his  arrival,  and  which  he  had  found  time  to  glance  over, 
gave  him  at  once  a  subject  and  a  point  of  departure. 

"  I  arrived  here  at  one  o'clock,"  said  he ;  "  and  I  have 
already  received  a  homily  from  Broisfresnay." 

"  He  writes  often,"  observed  Albert. 

"  Too  much ;  he  consumes  himrelf  in  ink.  More  ri- 
diculous projects,  vain  hopes,  veritable  childishness ! 
and  he  mentions  at  least  a  dozen  names  of  men  high  in 
power  as  associates.  By  my  word  of  honor,  men  seem 
to  have  lost  their  senses !  They  talk  of  lifting  the  world, 
only  they  want  the  lever  and  the  point  on  which  to  rest 
it.  It  makes  me  die  with  laughter !  " 

For  ten  minutes  the  count  continued  to  discharge  a 
volley  of  epigrams  and  sarcasms  against  his  best  friends, 
without  seeming  to  see  that  a  great  many  of  the  foibles» 
he  ridiculed  were  his  own  as  much  as  theirs. 

"  If,"  continued  he  more  seriously, — "  if  they  showed 
any  confidence  in  themselves,  they  might  be  entitled  to 
respect ;  but  they  have  not  even  the  virtue  of  courage. 
They  count  upon  others  to  do  for  them  what  they  ought 
to  do  for  themselves.  They  are  in  continual  quest  of 
some  one  better  mounted,  who  will  consent  to  take  them 
on  his  crupper.  In  short,  their  proceedings  are  a  series 
of  confessions  of  helplessness,  of  premature  declarations 
of  failure." 

Coffee  was  served ;  and  the  count  made  a  sign. 

The  servants  left  the  room. 


176  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  No,"  said  the  count,  "  I  see  but  one  hope  for  the 
French  aristocracy,  but  one  plank  of  salvation,  one  good 
little  law,  establishing  the  right  of  primogeniture." 

"  You  will  "never  obtain  it,  monsieur." 

"  You  would  oppose  such  a  measure,  viscount." 

Albert  knew  by  experience  what  dangerous  ground 
his  father  was  approaching,  and  was  silent. 

"  Let  us  put  it,  then,  that  I  dream  of  the  impossible !  " 
resumed  the  count.  "  Let  the  nobles  do  their  duty, 
When  the  younger  sons  and  daughters  of  great  houses 
devote  themselves  to  establish  their  families,  by  giving 
up  the  entire  patrimony  to  its  first-born  for  five  genera- 
tions, contenting  themselves  each  one  with  a  hundred 
louis  a  year,  then  only  can  great  fortunes  be  recon- 
structed, and  families,  instead  of  being  divided  by  a 
variety  of  interests,  become  united  by  a  common 
aspiration, — have  a  political  influence,  a  position  in 
the  State." 

"  Unfortunately,"  objected  the  viscount,  "  the  time  is 
not  favorable  to  such  devotedness." 

"  I  know  it,  monsieur,"  replied  the  count  quickly ; 
"  and  in  my  own  house  I  have  proved  it.  I  have  con- 
jured you  to  renounce  the  espousal  of  the  granddaugh- 
ter of  this  old  fool,  the  Marquise  d'  Arlanges.  To  what 
purpose?  " 

"  My  father — "  Albert  was  beginning. 

"  It  is  well,"  interrupted  the  count.  "  You  will  take 
your  own  course;  but  remember  my  prediction:  you 
will  give  the  mortal  blow  to  our  house;  you  will  be 
one  of  the  largest  proprietors  in  France,  but  have  half 
a  dozen  children ;  and  they  will  be  hardly  rich.  Live  to 
be  an  old  man,  and  you  will  see  your  grandchildren  in 
poverty !  " 

"  You  put  all  at  the  worst,  father." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  177 

"  Without  doubt :  it  is  the  only  means  of  pointing  out 
the  danger,  and  averting  the  evil.  You  talk  of  your 
life's  happiness.  A  truly  noble  man  thinks  of  his  name 
and  family  before  all,  even  his  life's  happiness.  Made- 
moiselle d'  Arlanges  is  very  pretty,  and  very  attractive ; 
but  she  has  not  a  sou.  It  is  your  duty  to  marry  an  heir- 
ess." 

"Whom  I  shall  not  love?" 

"  The  same  old  song.  Pshaw  !  the  lady  I  wish  you  to 
marry  will  bring  you  four  millions  in  her  apron, — a 
larger  dowry  than  the  kings  of  to-day  can  give  their 
daughters." 

The  discussion  upon  this  subject  would  have  been  in- 
terminable, had  Albert  taken  an  active  share  in  it ;  but 
his  mind  was  leagues  away :  and  he  answered  from  time 
to  time  only,  and  then  in  monosyllables.  This  absence 
of  opposition  was  more  irritating  to  the  count  than  the 
most  obstinate  contradiction.  He  directed  his  utmost 
efforts  to  pique  his  son,  that  was  his  next  tactique. 

Meanwhile,  he  was  vainly  prodigal  of  words,  and  un- 
sparing in  provoking  and  unpleasant  allusions.  At 
length,  from  being  irritated,  he  became  furious ;  and, 
on  receiving  a  laconic  response,  he  burst  forth, — 

"  Parbleu !  the  son  of  my  Maitre  d'  Hotel  argues  no 
worse  than  you.  What  blood  have  you  in  your  veins? 
You  are  more  like  a  son  of  the  people  than  a  scion  of 
the  de  Commarins ! '' 

There  are  certain  conditions  of  mind  in  which  the 
least  conversation  jars  upon  the  nerves.  During  the  last 
half  hour,  Albert  had  suffered  an  intolerable  punish- 
ment. The  patience  with  which  he  had  armed  himself 
at  last  escaped  him. 

"  Well,  monsieur,"  he  answered,  "  if  I  resemble  a  son 
of  the  people,  there  are  perhaps  good  reasons  for  it." 


i;8  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  glance  accompanying  the  speech  was  so  express- 
ive that  the  count  experienced  a  sudden  shock.  All  the 
animation  departed  from  his  manner ;  and,  in  a  hesitat- 
ing voice,  he  demanded, — 

"  What  do  you  say,  viscount  ?  " 

Albert  no  sooner  uttered  the  sentence  than  he  re- 
gretted his  precipitation ;  bul  he  had  gone  too  far  to  re- 
treat. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said  with  a  peculiar  calmness,  "  I 
have  to  confer  with  you  on  important  matters.  My 
honor,  yours,  the  honor  of  our  house,  are  involved.  I 
intended  postponing  the  conversation  till  to-morrow, 
not  desiring  to  trouble  you  on  the  evening  of  your  re- 
turn; but  you  have  introduced  the  topic,  and  we  must 
proceed." 

The  count  listened  with  ill-concealed  anxiety.  He  di- 
vined the  misfortune  that  had  occurred,  and  was  terri- 
fied at  himself  for  having  divined  it. 

"  Believe  me,  monsieur,"  continued  Albert,  "  what- 
ever may  have  been  your  acts,  my  voice  will  never 
be  raised  to  reproach  you.  Your  constant  goodness — " 

M.  de  Commarin  held  up  his  hand. 

"  A  truce  to  preambles ;  the  facts  without  phrases," 
said  he,  sternly. 

Albert  was  slow  to  answer:  he  hesitated  where  to 
commence. 

*'  Monsieur,"  said  he  at  length,  "  during  your  ab- 
sence, I  have  read  all  your  correspondence  with  Madame 
Gerdy, — all!"  emphasizing  th2  last  word,  already  so 
significant. 

The  count  started  up,  as  if  stung  by  a  serpent,  with 
such  violence  that  his  chair  rolled  back  several  paces. 

"  Not  a  word ! "  cried  he  in  a  terrible  voice.  "  I 
forbid  you  to  speak." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  179 

He  was  ashamed  of  his  violence,  evidently ;  for  he  re- 
placed his  chair  with  an  affectation  of  calmness. 

"'*  Who  will  hereafter  refuse  to  believe  in  presenti- 
ments ?  "  he  resumed  in  a  tone  which  he  strove  to  render 
light  and  rallying.  "  An  hour  ago,  on  seeing  your  pale 
face  at  the  railway  station,  I  felt  that  you  had  learned 
something, — much  or  little, — of  this  history.  I  was  sure 
of  it." 

With  one  accord,  father  and  son  avoided  letting  their 
eyes  meet,  lest  they  might  encounter  glances  too 
eloquent  to  bear  at  so  painful  a  moment. 

"  You  said,  monsieur,"  said  the  count,  "  honor  de- 
mands this  conference;  it  is  important,  then,  to  avoid 
delay.  Will  you  follow  me  to  my  room  ?  " 

He  rang  the  bell.    A  valet  appeared. 

"  Neither  M.  the  viscount  nor  I  am  at  home  to  any 
one,  no  matter  whom.  We  are  not  to  be  interrupted." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THIS  revelation  irritated,  much  more  than  surprised 
the  Count  de  Commarin. 

Indeed,  for  twenty  years,  he  had  been  expecting  to  see 
the  truth  brought  to  light.  He  knew  that  there  could  be 
no  secret  so  carefully  guarded  that  it  might  not  by  some 
chance  escape ;  and  his  had  been  known  to  four  people, 
three  of  whom  were  still  living. 

He  had  not  forgotten  that  he  had  been  imprudent 
enough  to  trust  this  secret  to  paper,  knowing  all  the 
while  that  it  ought  never  to  have  been  written. 

How  could  he,  a  prudent  diplomat,  a  statesman,  used 
to  precaution,  have  put  it  in  writing?  How,  after  writ- 
ing, could  he  have  allowed  this  fatal  correspondence  to 


i8o  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

remain  in  existence?  Why  had  he  not  destroyed,  at 
whatever  cost,  these  overwhelming  proofs,  which  sooner 
or  later,  would  be  brought  against  him?  Such  impru- 
dence could  only  Lave  been  caused  by  an  absurd  passion, 
blind,  insensible,  improvident  even  to  madness. 

It  is  characteristic  of  love  to  have  such  belief  in  its 
continuance  that  it  is  scarcely  satisfied  with  the  pros- 
pect of  eternity.  Absorbed  completely  in  the  present,  it 
takes  no  thought  for  the  future. 

Besides,  what  man  ever  dreams  of  putting  himself  on 
his  guard  against  the  woman  he  loves  ?  The  enamored 
Samson  is  ever  ready  to  submit  his  hair  to  the  scissors 
of  his  Delilah. 

So  long  as  he  was  Valerie's  lover,  the  count  never 
thought  of  asking  the  return  of  his  letters  from  his 
beloved  accomplice.  If  the  idea  had  occurred  to  him, 
he  would  have  repelled  it  as  an  insult  to  the  character  of 
his  angel. 

What  reason  could  he  have  had  to  suspect  her  discre- 
tion? None.  He  would  have  been  much  more  likely 
to  have  supposed  her  interested  in  removing  every  trace, 
even  the  slightest,  of  the  occurrences  which  had  taken 
place.  Was  it  not  her  son  who  had  received  the  benefits 
of  the  deed, — who  had  usurped  another's  name  and 
fortune  ? 

When,  eight  years  after,  thinking  himself  deceived, 
the  count  had  broken  off  the  connection  which  had  given 
him  so  much  happiness,  he  thought  of  obtaining  posses- 
sion of  this  unhappy  correspondence.  But  he  knew  no 
way.  A  thousand  reasons  precluded  his  moving  in  the 
matter. 

The  principal  one  of  these  reasons  was,  that  he  had 
resolved  never  again  to  meet  this  woman  once  so  dearly 
loved.  He  did  not  feel  sufficiently  sure  either  of  his 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  181 

anger  or  of  his  firmness.  Could  he,  without  yielding,  re- 
sist the  tearful  pleading  of  those  eyes,  which  had  so  long 
held  complete  sway  over  his  soul  ? 

To  look  again  upon  this  mistress  of  his  youth  would, 
he  feared,  result?  in  his  forgiving  her ;  and  he  had  been 
too  cruelly  wounded  in  his  pride  and  in  his  affection  to 
admit  the  idea  of  a  reconciliation. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  obtain  the  letters  through  a 
third  party  was  entirely  out  of  the  question.  He  ab- 
stained, then,  from  all  action,  postponing  it  indefinitely. 

"  I  will  go  to  her,"  said  he ;  "  but  not  until  I  have  SQ 
torn  her  from  my  heart  that  she  will  have  become  indif- 
ferent to  me.  I  will  not  gratify  her  with  the  sight  of 
my  grief." 

So  months  and  years  passed  on ;  and  finally  he  began 
to  say  and  believe  that  it  was  too  late. 

The  truth  was,  that  there  were  memories  which  it 
would  have  been  imprudent  to  awake.  By  an  unjust 
mistrust,  he  might  provoke  her  to  using  the  letters. 

Can  you  better  force  a  well-armed  person  to  use  his 
arms  than  by  demanding  their  surrender?  After  so 
long  a  silence,  to  ask  for  the  letters  would  be  nearly  the 
same  as  declaring  war.  Besides,  were  they  still  in 
existence?  who  could  tell?  what  more  likely  than  that 
Madame  Gerdy  had  destroyed  them,  understanding  that 
their  existence  was  dangerous  and  that  their  destruction 
alone  could  render  her  son's  usurpation  safe? 

M.  de  Commarin  was  not  blind ;  but,  finding  himself 
in  an  inextricable  difficulty,  he  thought  the  wisest  course 
was  to  trust  to  chance;  and  so  he  left  open  for  his  old 
age  this  door  to  a  guest  who  was  always  entering, — Un- 
happiness. 

And  for  now  more  than  twenty  years,  he  had  never 
passed  a  day  without  cursing  his  inexcusable  folly. 


i82  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Never  had  he  been  able  to  forget  that  above  his  head 
hung  a  danger  more  terrible  than  the  sword  of  Damo- 
cles, suspended  by  a  thread,  which  the  slightest  accident 
might  break. 

To-day  this  thread  had  broken. 

Often,  when  considering  the  possibility  of  such  a 
catastrophe,  he  had  asked  himself  how  he  should 
avert  it  ? 

He  had  formed  and  rejected  many  plans ;  he  had 
deluded  himself,  like  all  men  of  imagination,  who,  with  a 
wealth  of  chimerical  projects,  find  themselves  at  last 
surprised  while  unprepared. 

Albert  stood  respectfully,  while  his  father  sat  in  his 
great  armorial  chair,  just  beneath  the  large  chart,  where 
the  genealogical  tree  of  the  illustrious  family  of  Rheteau 
de  Commarin  spread  its  luxuriant  branches. 

The  old  gentleman  permitted  no  one  to  see  the  cruel 
apprehensions  which  oppressed  him.  He  seemed  neither 
irritated  nor  dejected ;  but  his  eyes  expressed  a  haughti- 
ness more  than  usually  disdainful, — a  self-reliance  full 
of  contempt,  rendering  him  imperturbable. 

"  Now,  viscount,"  he  began  in  a  firm  voice,  "  explain 
yourself.  I  need  say  nothing  to  you  of  the  pain  of  a 
father,  obliged  to  blush  before  his  son ;  you  feel,  and 
pity.  Let  us  spare  each  other,  and  try  to  be  calm.  Tell 
me,  how  did  you  obtain  your  knowledge  of  this  corre- 
spondence ?  " 

Albert  had  had  time  to  recover  himself,  and  prepare 
for  the  present  struggle,  as  he  had  waited  four  days  for 
this  interview  with  mortal  impatience. 

The  difficulty  he  experienced  in  speaking  the  first 
words  had  given  place  to  a  dignified  and  proud 
demeanor.  He  expressed  himself  clearly  and  forcibly, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  183 

without  losing  himself  in  those  details  which  in  grave 
matters  only  retard  progress. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  replied,  "  on  Monday  morning  a 
young  man  appeared  here,  stating  that  he  had  business 
with  me  of  the  utmost  importance  and  secrecy.  I 
received  him.  He  then  revealed  to  me  that  I,  alas !  am 
only  your  natural  son,  substituted,  through  your  affec- 
tion, for  the  legitimate  child  borne  to  you  by  Madame 
de  Commarin." 

"  And  you  did  not  Iqck  this  man  out  of  doors  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  count. 

"  No,  monsieur.  I  should  have  answered  him  very 
sharply,  of  course ;  but,  presenting  me  with  a  package 
of  letters,  he  begged  me  to  read  them  before  replying." 

"  Ah !  "  cried  M.  de  Commarin,  "  you  did  not  throw 
them  in  the  fire, — there  was  a  fire,  I  suppose?  You 
held  them  in  your  hands ;  and  they  still  exist.  I  would 
have  done  very  differently !  " 

"  Monsieur !  "  said  Albert,  reproachfully. 

And  recalling  the  position  Noel  had  occupied  before 
the  mantel,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  stood,  he 
added, — 

"  Even  if  the  thought  had  occurred  to  me,  it  was  im- 
practicable. Besides,  at  the  first  glance,  I  recognized 
your  handwriting.  I  then  took  the  letters,  and  read 
them." 

"And  then?" 

"  And  then,  monsieur,  I  returned  the  correspondence 
to  the  young  man,  and  asked  for  a  delay  of  eight  days ; 
not  to  think  over  it  myself, — there  was  no  need  of  that, 
— but  because  I  judged  an  interview  with  you  indispen- 
sable. Now,  therefore,  I  beseech  you,  tell  me  whether 
this  substitution  ever  took  place." 


184  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Certainly  it  did,"  replied  the  count  violently, — • 
"  certainly.  You  know  that  it  did ;  for  you  have  read 
what  I  wrote  to  Madame  Gerdy,  your  mother." 

Albert  had  foreseen,  had  expected  this  reply;  but  it 
crushed  him. 

This  was  one  of  those  misfortunes,  so  great,  that  you 
have  to  keep  repeating  it  to  yourself  before  you  can 
actually  realize  it.  This  flinching  lasted  but  an  instant, 
however. 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur,"  he  replied.  "  I  believed  it ; 
but  I  had  not  a  formal  assurance  of  it.  All  the  letters 
that  I  read  spoke  distinctly  of  your  purpose,  detailing 
your  plan  minutely;  but  not  one  pointed  to,  or  in  any 
way  confirmed,  the  execution  of  the  project." 

The  count  gazed  at  his  son  with  a  look  of  intense  sur- 
prise. He  recollected  distinctly  all  the  letters;  and  he 
could  remember,  that,  in  writing  to  Valerie,  he  had 
over  and  over  rejoiced  at  their  success,  thanking  her  for 
having  acted  in  accordance  with  his  wishes. 

"  You  did  not  finish,  then,  viscount,"  he  said,  "  you 
did  not  read  all  ?  " 

"  Every  line,  monsieur,  and  with  an  attention  that 
you  may  well  understand.  The  last  letter  shown  me 
simply  announced  to  Madame  Gerdy  the  arrival  of 
Claudine  Lerouge,  the  nurse  who  was  charged  with  ac- 
complishing the  exchange.  I  know  nothing  beyond 
that." 

"  These  proofs  amount  to  nothing,"  muttered  the 
count.  "  A  man  may  form  a  plan,  cherish  it  for  a  long 
time,  and  at  the  last  moment  abandon  it ;  it  often  hap- 
pens so." 

He  reproached  himself  for  having  answered  so  has- 
tily. Albert  had  had  only  serious  suspicions :  he  had 
changed  them  to  certainty.  What  a  mistake ! 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  185 

"  There  can  be  no  possible  doubt,"  he  said  to  himself ; 
"  Valerie  has  destroyed  the  most  conclusive  letters, 
those  which  appeared  to  her  the  most  dangerous,  those 
I  wrote  after  the  exchange.  But  why  has  she  preserved 
these  others,  compromising  enough  in  themselves?  and 
why,  after  having  preserved  them,  has  she  let  them  out 
of  her  possession  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  she  is  dead !  "  said  M.  de  Corhmarin  aloud. 

And  at  this  thought  of  Valerie  dead,  without  his  hav- 
ing again  seen  her,  he  started  painfully.  His  heart,  after 
more  than  twenty  years  of  voluntary  separation,  still 
suffered,  so  deeply  rooted  was  this  first  love  of  his 
youth.  He  had  cursed  her ;  at  this  moment,  he  would 
have  pardoned  her.  She  had  deceived  him,  it  is  true; 
but  did  he  not  owe  to  her  the  only  years  of  happiness 
he  had  ever  known  ?  Had  she  not  formed  all  the  poetry 
of  his  youth.  Had  he  experienced,  since  leaving  her, 
one  single  hour  of  happiness?  In  his  present  frame  of 
mind,  his  heart  retained  only  happy  memories,  like  a 
vase  which,  once  filled  with  the  precious  perfumes,  re- 
tains the  odor  even  after  it  is  itself  destroyed. 

"  Poor  girl !  "  he  murmured. 

He  sighed  deeply.  Three  or  four  times  his  eyelids 
twinkled,  as  if  a  tear  had  nearly  fallen.  Albert  watched 
him  with  anxious  curiosity.  This  was  the  first  time 
since  the  viscount  had  grown  to  man's  estate  that  he 
had  surprised  in  his  father's  countenance  other  emo- 
tion than  ambition  or  pride,  conquered  or  triumphant. 
But  M.  de  Commarin's  was  not  the  character  to  yield 
long  to  sentiment. 

"  You  have  not  told  me,  viscount,"  he  said,  "  who 
sent  you  this  unhappy  message  ?  " 

"  He  came  in  person,  monsieur,  not  wishing,  he  told 
me,  to  bring  a  third  party  into  the  sad  affair.  The  young 


186  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

man  was  no  other  than  he  whose  place  I  have  occupied, 
— your  legitimate  son,  Noel  Gerdy  himself." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  count  in  a  low  tone,  "  Noel ;  that  is 
his  name :  I  remember."  And  then,  with  evident  hesi- 
tation, he  added,  "  did  he  speak  to  you  of  his — of  your 
mother?" 

"  Scarcely,  monsieur.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been 
brought  up  in  ignorance  of  the  secret  which  he  had  ac- 
cidentally discovered,  and  which  he  revealed  to  me." 

M.  de  Commarin  made  no  reply.  There  was  nothing 
more  for  him  to  learn.  He  was  reflecting.  The  decisive 
moment  had  come;  and  he  saw  but  one  way  to  escape. 

"  Come  Viscount,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  so  affectionate 
that  Albert  was  astonished,  "  do  not  stand ;  sit  down 
here  by  me,  and  let  us  discuss  this  matter.  Let  us  unite 
our  efforts  to  shun,  if  possible,  this  great  misfortune. 
Confide  in  me,  as  a  son  should  in  his  father.  Have  you 
thought  of  what  is  to  be  done  ?  have  you  formed  any  de- 
termination ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,  monsieur,  that  hesitation  is  impos- 
sible." 

"In  what  way?" 

"  My  duty,  father,  to  me  is  very  plain.  Before  your 
legitimate  son,  I  ought  to  give  way  without  a  murmur, 
if  not  without  regret.  Let  him  come.  I  am  ready  to 
yield  to  him  every  thing  that  I  have  so  long,  without  a 
suspicion  of  the  truth,  kept  from  him, — a  father's  love, 
his  fortune  and  his  name." 

The  old  gentleman,  at  this  most  praiseworthy  reply, 
could  scarcely  preserve  the  calmness  he  had  recom- 
mended to  his  son  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  interview. 
His  face  grew  purple;  and  he  struck  the  table  with 
his  fist  more  furiously  than  he  had  ever  done  in  his  life. 
He,  usually  so  guarded,  so  decorous  on  all  occasions,  ut- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  187 

tered  a  volley  of  oaths  that  would  not  have  done  dis- 
credit to  an  old  cavalry  officer. 

"  And  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  this,  your  dream  of  life, 
shall  never  take  place.  No ;  that  it  sha'n't.  I  promise 
you,  whatever  happens,  understand,  that  things  must 
remain  as  they  are;  because  it  is  my  wish.  You  are 
Viscount  de  Commarin;  and  Viscount  de  Commarin 
you  shall  remain,  in  spite  of  yourself.  You  shall  retain 
the  title  to  your  death,  or  at  least  to  mine;  for  never, 
while  I  live,  shall  your  absurd  idea  be  carried  out." 

"  But,  monsieur,"  began  Albert,  timidly. 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  interrupting  me  while  I  am 
speaking,  monsieur,"  exclaimed  the  count.  "  Do  I  not 
know  all  your  objections  beforehand  ?  You  are  going  to 
tell  me  that  it  is  a  revolting  injustice,  a  wicked  robbery. 
I  confess  it,  and  grieve  over  it  more  than  you  possibly. 
can.  Do  you  think  that  I  now  for  the  first  time  repent 
of  my  youthful  folly?  For  twenty  years,  monsieur,  I 
have  lamented  my  true  son;  for  twenty  years  have  I 
cursed  the  wickedness  of  which  he  is  the  victim.  And 
yet  I  taught  myself  to  keep  silence,  to  hide  the  sorrow 
and  the  remorse  which  has  covered  my  pillow  with 
thorns.  In  a  single  instant,  your  senseless  yielding, 
would  render  my  long-suffering  of  no  avail.  No,  I  will 
never  permit  it !  " 

The  count  read  a  reply  on  his  son's  lips ;  he  stopped 
him  with  a  withering  glance. 

"  Do  you  think,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  have  never 
wept  over  the  thought  of  my  legitimate  son  passing  his 
life  struggling  for  a  competence?  Do  you  think  that  I 
have  never  felt  a  burning  desire  to  repair  the  wrong 
done  him?  There  have  been  times,  monsieur,  when  I 
would  have  given  half  of  my  fortune  simply  to  embrace 
that  child  of  a  wife  too  tardily  appreciated.  The  fear 


i88  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

of  casting  a  shadow  of  suspicion  upon  your  birth  pre- 
vented me.  I  have  sacrificed  myself  to  the  great  name  I 
bear.  I  received  it  from  my  ancestors  without  a  stain. 
May  you  hand  it  down  to  your  children  equally  spot- 
less !  Your  first  purpose  is  a  worthy  one, — noble,  chiv- 
alrous, but  you  must  forget  it.  Think  of  the  scandal, 
if  our  secret  should  be  disclosed  to  the  public  gaze.  Can 
you  not  foresee  the  joy  of  that  herd  of  parvenues  who 
surround  us?  I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  the  odium, 
the  ridicule  which  will  attach  to  our  name.  Too  many 
families  already  have  stains  upon  their  escutcheons;  I 
hope  ours  will  never  be  among  the  number." 

M.  de  Commarin  had  stopped  several  minutes,  with- 
out Albert's  daring  to  reply,  so  much  had  he  been  ac- 
customed since  infancy  to  respect  the  least  wish  of  the 
terrible  old  gentleman. 

"  There  is  no  possible  way  out  of  it,"  continued  the 
count.  "  Shall  I  to-morrow  discard  you,  arid  present 
this  Noel  as  my  son,  saying,  '  Excuse  me,  but  there  has 
been  a  slight  mistake  in  identity :  I  didn't  know  my  own 
son  ?  '  And  then  the  tribunals  will  get  hold  of  it.  Now, 
if  our  name  were  Benoit,  Durand,  or  Bernard,  it  would 
make  no  difference ;  but,  when  one  is  called  a  Commarin, 
even  but  for  a  single  day,  he  must  retain  it  through 
life.  Justice  is  not  the  same  in  every  case ;  because  all 
have  not  the  same  duties.  In  our  position,  errors  are  ir- 
reparable. Take  courage,  then,  and  show  yourself 
worthy  of  the  name  you  bear.  The  storm  is  upon  you ; 
raise  your  head  to  meet  it." 

Albert's  impassibility  contributed  not  a  little  to  in- 
crease M.  de  Commarin's  irritation.  Firm  in  an  un- 
changeable resolution,  the  viscount  listened  like  one  ful- 
filling a  duty ;  and  his  face  reflected  no  emotion.  The 
count  saw  that  he  was  not  shaken. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  189 

"  What  have  you  to  reply  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  monsieur,  that  you  do  not  under- 
stand all  the  dangers  to  which  I  am  exposed.  It  is  dif- 
ficult to  master  the  revolts  of  conscience." 

"  Indeed !  "  interrupted  the  count  contemptuously ; 
"  your  conscience  revolts,  does  it  ?  It  has  chosen  its  time 
badly.  Your  scruples  come  too  late.  So  long  as  you 
saw,  in  succeeding  me,  an  illustrious  title  and  a  dozen 
or  so  of  millions,  it  smiled  on  you.  To-day  the  name 
appears  to  you  laden  with  a  heavy  fault, — a  crime,  if 
you  will;  and  your  conscience  revolts.  Renounce  this 
folly.  Children,  monsieur,  are  accountable  to  their 
fathers;  and  they  should  obey  them.  Willing  or  un- 
willing, you  must  be  my  accomplice;  willing  or  un- 
willing, you  must  bear  the  burden,  as  I  have  borne  it. 
And,  however  much  you  suffer,  be  assured  it  can 
never  approach  what  I  have  endured  for  so  many 
years." 

"  Ah,  monsieur !  "  cried  Albert,  "  is  it  then  I,  the  dis- 
possessor,  who  has  made  this  trouble?  is  it  not,  on  the 
contrary,  the  dispossessed  ?  It  is  not  I  who  have  moved 
in  the  matter ;  it  is  Noel  Gerdy." 

"  Noel !  "  repeated  the  count. 

"  Your  legitimate  son,  yes,  monsieur.  You  act  as  if 
the  issue  of  this  unhappy  affair  depended  solely  upon 
my  will.  Do  you,  then,  imagine  that  Noel  Gerdy  will 
be  so  easily  disposed  of,  so  easily  silenced?  And,  if 
he  should  raise  his  voice,  do  you  hope  to  accomplish 
much  through  the  considerations  you  have  just  men- 
tioned ?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"  Then  you  are  wrong,  monsieur,  permit  me  to  tell 
you.  Suppose  for  a  moment  that  this  young  man  has 
ever  had  a  soul  sufficiently  noble  to  relinquish  his  claim 


190  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

upon  your  rank  and  your  fortune.  Is  there  not  now 
the  accumulated  rancor  of  years  to  urge  him  to  oppose 
us  ?  He  cannot  help  feeling  a  fierce  resentment  for  the 
horrible  injustice  of  which  he  has  been  the  victim.  He 
must  passionately  long  for  vengeance,  or  rather  repara- 
tion." 

"  He  has  no  proofs." 

"  He  has  your  letters,  monsieur." 

"  They  are  not  decisive,  you  have  told  me." 

"  That  is  true,  monsieur ;  and  yet  they  convinced  me, 
who  am  interested  in  not  being  convinced.  Besides  if 
he  needs  witnesses,  he  will  find  them." 

"Who?    You,  probably." 

"  Yourself,  monsieur.  The  day  when  he  wishes  it, 
you  will  betray  us.  Suppose  you  were  summoned  be- 
fore the  tribunals,  and  that  there,  under  oath,  you  should 
be  required  to  speak  the  truth,  what  answer  would  you 
make?" 

M.  de  Commarin's  face  darkened  at  this  very  natural 
supposition.  He  hesitated, — he  whose  honor  was  usu- 
ally so  great. 

"  I  would  save  the  name  of  my  ancestors,"  he  said 
at  last. 

Albert  shook  his  head  doubtfully.- 

"  At  the  price  of  a  lie,  my  father,"  he  said.  "  I  never 
will  believe  that.  But  let  us  suppose  even  that.  He 
will  then  call  upon  Madame  Gerdy." 

"  Oh,  I  will  answer  for  her !  "  cried  the  count ;  "  her 
interests  are  the  same  as  ours.  If  necessary,  I  will  see 
her.  Yes,"  he  added  with  an  effort,  "  I  will  go  to  her 
house :  I  will  speak  to  her ;  and  I  will  guarantee  that  she 
does  not  betray  us." 

"  And  Claudine,"  continued  the  young  man ;  "  will 
she  be  silent,  too  ?  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  191 

"  For  money,  yes ;  and  I  will  give  her  whatever  she 
asks." 

"  And  you  would  trust,  father,  to  a  paid  silence,  as 
if  one  could  ever  be  sure  of  a  purchased  conscience? 
What  is  sold  to  you  may  be  sold  to  another.  A  certain 
sum  may  close  her  mouth ;  a  much  larger  will  open  it." 

"  I  will  risk  it." 

"  You  forget,  father,  that  Claudine  Lerouge  was  Noel 
Gerdy's  nurse,  that  she  takes  an  interest  in  his  hap- 
piness, that  she  loves  him.  How  do  you  know  that  he 
has  not  already  secured  her  aid  ?  She  lives  at  Bougival. 
I  have  been  there,  I  remember,  with  you.  Without 
doubt,  he  sees  her  often.  Perhaps  it  was  she  who  put 
him  on  the  track  of  this  correspondence.  He  spoke  to 
me  of  her,  as  though  he  was  sure  of  her  testimony.  He 
almost  proposed  my  going  to  her  for  information." 

"  Alas !  "  cried  the  count,  "  why  is  not  Claudine  dead 
instead  of  my  faithful  Germain  ?  " 

"  You  see,  monsieur,"  concluded  Albert,  "  Claudine 
Lerouge  alone  stands  in  the  way  of  your  project." 

"  Ah,  no !  "  cried  the  count ;  "  I  will  find  some  ex- 
pedient." 

The  obstinate  old  gentleman  was  not  willing  to  give 
in  to  this  argument,  whose  very  clearness  blinded  him. 
The  pride  of  his  blood  paralyzed  in  him  his  usual  prac- 
tical good  sense,  and  obscured  his  remarkable  clear 
headedness.  To  acknowledge  himself  conquered  by 
necessity  humiliated  him,  seemed  to  him  disgraceful, 
unworthy  of  him.  He  did  not  remember  to  have  met 
during  his  long  career  an  invincible  resistance  or  an 
absolute  impediment. 

He  was  a  little  like  those  Hercules,  who,  having  never 
experienced  a  limit  to  their  strength,  believe  that  they 
could  overcome  mountains  if  they  desired. 


192  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

He  had  also  the  misfortune  of  all  men  of  imagina- 
tion, who  fall  in  love  with  their  projects,  and  who  try 
to  make  them  succeed  on  all  occasions,  as  if  wishing 
hard  was  all  that  was  necessary  to  change  their  dreams 
into  realities. 

Albert  this  time  broke  the  silence,  whose  length 
threatened  to  be  prolonged. 

"  I  see,  monsieur,"  he  said,  "  that  you  fear,  above 
all  things,  the  publicity  of  this  sad  history ;  the  possible 
scandal  renders  you  desperate.  But,  unless  we  yield, 
the  uproar  will  be  terrible.  If  a  writ  issued  against 
us  to-morrow,  in  four  days  our  trial  will  be  the  talk  of  all 
Europe.  The  newspapers  will  print  the  facts,  accom- 
panied by  heaven  knows  what  comments  of  their  own. 
Our  name,  however  the  trial  results,  will  appear  in  all 
the  papers  of  the  world.  This  might  be  borne,  if  we 
were  sure  of  succeeding;  but  we  might  fail,  my  father, 
— we  might  fail.  Then  think  of  the  noise,  think  of  the 
dishonor  branded  upon  us  in  public  opinion." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  count,  "  that  you  can  have  neither 
respect  nor  affection  for  me,  when  you  speak  in  that 
way." 

"  It  is  my  duty,  monsieur,  to  point  out  to  you  the 
evils  I  see  threatening,  and  which  there  is  yet  time  to 
shun.  Noel  Gerdy  is  your  legitimate  son ;  recognize  him, 
acknowledge  his  just  pretensions,  receive  him.  We  can 
make  the  change  very  quickly  It  is  easy  to  account  for 
it,  through  a  mistake  of  the  nurse, — Claudine  Lerouge, 
for  instance.  All  the  parties  being  in  accord,  there  can 
be  no  trouble  made.  What  is  to  prevent  the  new  Vis- 
count de  Commarin  from  quitting  Paris,  and  being  lost 
to  sight  ?  He  might  travel  in  Europe  four  or  five  years ; 
by  the  end  of  that  time  all  would  be  forgotten.  No  one 
will  remember  me  more." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  193 

M.  de  Commarin  was  not  listening:  he  was  deep  in 
thought. 

"  But  instead  of  contesting,  viscount,"  he  cried,  "  we 
might  compromise.  We  may  be  able  to  purchase  these 
letters.  What  does  this  young  fellow  want?  A 
position  and  a  fortune?  I  will  give  him  both.  I  will 
make  him  as  rich  as  he  can  ask.  I  will  give  him  a 
million;  if  need  be,  two,  three, — half  of  all  I  possess. 
With  money,  you  see,  much  money — " 

"  Spare  him,  monsieur ;  he  is  your  son." 

"  Curse  it !  and  I  wish  him  to  the  devil  for  it !  I  will 
show  him  that  he  had  better  compromise.  I  will  prove 
to  him  the  bad  policy  of  the  earthen  pot  beating  against 
the  iron  kettle ;  and,  if  he  is  not  a  fool,  he  will  under- 
stand it." 

The  count  rubbed  his  hands  while  speaking.  He  was 
delighted  with  this  brilliant  plan  of  negotiation.  It 
could  not  fail  to  result  favorably.  A  crowd  of  argu- 
ments occurred  to  his  mind  for  proving  his  case.  He 
would  buy  back  again  his  lost  quiet. 

But  Albert  did  not  seem  to  share  his  father's  hopes. 

"  You  will  perhaps  think  it  unkind  in  me,  monsieur," 
said  he  sadly,  "  to  dispel  this  last  illusion  of  yours ;  but 
it  must  be.  Do  not  delude  yourself  with  the  idea  of  an 
amicable  arrangement:  the  awakening  will  only  be  the 
more  painful.  I  have  seen  this  Gerdy,  my  father;  and 
he  is  not  one,  I  assure  you,  to  be  intimidated.  If  ever 
there  was  an  energetic  will  in  the  world,  his  is  one.  He 
is  truly  your  son ;  and  his  expression,  like  yours,  shows 
an  iron  resolution,  to  be  broken  but  never  bent.  I  can 
still  hear  his  voice  trembling  with  resentment,  while 
he  spoke  to  me.  I  can  still  see  the  dark  fire  of  his  eyes. 
No:  he  will  never  compromise.  He  will  have  all  or 
nothing ;  and  I  cannot  say  that  he  is  wrong.  If  we  re- 


194  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

sist,  he  will  attack  us  without  the  slightest  considera- 
tion. Strong  in  his  rights,  he  will  cling  to  us  with  stub- 
born animosity.  He  will  drag  us  from  court  to  court ; 
he  will  not  stop  short  of  utter  defeat  or  complete  tri- 
umph." 

Accustomed  to  absolute,  almost  unresisting  obedience 
from  his  son,  the  old  gentleman  was  astounded  at  this 
unexpected  obstinacy. 

"  What  is  your  purpose,  then  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  this,  monsieur.  I  should  utterly  despise  my- 
self, if  I  did  not  spare  your  old  age  this  greatest  of  cal- 
amities. Your  name  does  not  belong  to  me ;  I  will  take 
my  own.  I  am  your  natural  son.  I  will  yield  to  your 
legitimate  child.  Permit  me  to  withdraw  with  at  least 
the  honor  of  having  freely  done  my  duty.  Do  not  force 
me  to  await  arrest  by  the  tribunal,  which  would  drive 
me  out  in  disgrace." 

"  What !  "  cried  the  count  stunned,  "  you  will  aban- 
don me?  You  refuse  to  sustain  me,  you  turn  against 
me,  recognize  the  rights  of  this  man,  in  spite  of  my 
wishes  ?  " 

Albert  bowed.  He  was  much  moved,  but  still  remained 
firm. 

"  My  resolution  is  irrevocably  taken,"  he  replied.  "  I 
can  never  consent  to  despoil  your  son." 

"  Cruel,  ungrateful  boy !  "  cried  M.  de  Commarin. 

His  wrath  was  such,  that,  when  he  found  he  could  do 
nothing  by  abuse,  he  passed  at  once  to  jeering. 

"  But  no,"  he  continued,  "  you  are  great,  you  are 
noble,  you  are  generous ;  you  are  acting  after  the  most 
approved  pattern  of  chivalry,  viscount, — I  should  say, 
my  very  dear  Monsieur  Gerdy, — after  the  fashion  in 
Plutarch's  time!  So  you  renounce  my  name,  my  for- 
tune, and  you  leave  me.  You  will  shake  the  dust  from 


THE  WIDCOV  LEROUGE  195 

your  shoes  upon  my  threshold;  and  you  will  go  out 
into  the  world.  I  see  only  one  difficulty  in  your  way. 
How  do  you  expect  to  live,  my  stoic  philosopher? 
Have  you  an  estate  at  your  fingers'  ends,  like  Jean 
Jacques'  Emile  ?  Or,  my  worthy  Monsieur  Gerdy,  have 
you  learned  economy  from  the  four  thousand  francs 
a  month  I  allow  you  for  waxing  your  moustache  ?  Per- 
haps you  will  gamble  at  the  Bourse !  Then  you  will  up- 
hold my  name  with  a  vengeance, — my  name,  that  seems 
to  you  so  very  burdensome  to  wear.  Is  dirt,  then,  so 
great  an  attraction  for  you  that  you  must  jump  from  the 
carriage  so  eagerly?  Say,  rather,  that  the  company  of 
my  friends  embarrasses  you,  and  that  you  are  anxious 
to  go  where  you  will  be  among  your  own  equals." 

"  I  am  very  wretched,  monsieur,"  replied  Albert  to 
this  avalanche  of  insults,  "  and  you  would  crush  me ! " 

"  You  wretched !  Well,  whose  fault  is  it?  But  let 
us  get  back  to  my  question ;  how  and  on  what  will  you 
live?" 

"  I  am  not  so  romantic  as  you  are  pleased  to  suggest, 
monsieur.  I  must  confess  that,  for  the  future,  I  have 
counted  upon  your  goodness.  You  are  so  rich,  that 
five  hundred  thousand  francs  would  not  materially  af- 
fect your  fortune;  and,  on  the  income  of  that  sum,  I 
could  live  quietly,  if  not  happily." 

"  And  if  I  should  refuse  you  this  money?" 

"  I  know  you  well  enough,  monsieur,  to  feel  sure  that 
you  will  not  refuse  it.  You  are  too  just  to  wish  that  I 
should  expiate  alone  the  wrongs  that  were  not  of  my 
making.  Left  to  myself,  I  should  have,  at  my  present 
age,  achieved  a  position.  It  is  too  late  for  me  to  make 
one  now ;  but  I  can  at  least  try." 

"  Superb !  "  broke  in  the  count ;  "  this  is  superb !  I 
never  heard  of  such  a  hero  of  romance.  'What  a  char- 


196  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

acter.  It  has  all  the  purity  of  Rome,  all  the  firmness 
of  Sparta.  It  is  as  grand  as  any  thing  in  antiquity. 
But  tell  me,  what  do  you  expect  from  all  this  astonish- 
ing disinterestedness  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  monsieur." 

The  count  shrugged  his  shoulders,  looking  sarcas- 
tically at  his  son. 

"  The  compensation  is  very  slight.  And  you  expect 
to  make  me  believe  it?  No,  monsieur,  mankind  is  not 
in  the  habit  of  doing  such  fine  actions  for  its  own  satis- 
faction. You  have  some  reason  for  acting  so  grandly, 
which  I  fail  to  catch." 

"  None  but  what  I  have  already  told  you. 

"  Then  you  intend  to  renounce  every  thing ;  you  will 
even  abandon  your  proposed  union  with  Mademoiselle 
Claire  d'Arlanges?  You  forget  that  for  two  years  I 
have  in  vain  begged  you  to  give  this  marriage  up." 

"  No,  monsieur.  I  have  seen  Claire.  I  have  ex- 
plained my  unhappy  position  to  her.  Whatever  happens, 
she  has  sworn  to  be  my  wife." 

"And  do  you  think  that  Madame  d'Arlanges  will 
give  her  granddaughter  to  plain  Monsieur  Gerdy  ? " 

"I  hope -so,  monsieur.  The  marquise  is  sufficiently 
infected  with  nobility  to  prefer  the  natural  child  of  a 
gentleman  to  the  son  of  some  honest  tradesman ;  but  if 
she  refuses, — ah !  well,  we  will  await  her  death,  though 
without  desiring  it." 

Albert's  uniformly  calm  tone  enraged  the  count. 

"  Can  this  be  my  son  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Never !  What 
blood  have  you  in  your  veins,  monsieur  ?  Perhaps  your 
worthy  mother  might  tell  us,  provided  she  ever  knew 
herself." 

"  Monsieur,"  broke  in  Albert,  fiercely,  "  think  well 
before  you  speak.  She  is  my  mother,  and  that  is  suf- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  197 

ficient.  I  am  her  son,  not  her  judge.  No  one  in  my 
presence  shall  speak  disrespectfully  of  her:  I  will  not 
permit  it,  monsieur ;  and  I  will  suffer  it  least  of  all  from 
you." 

The  count  used  truly  heroic  efforts  to  keep  his  anger 
within  bounds;  but  he  was  beside  himself  at  Albert's 
position.  What,  he  rebelled,  he  dared  to  brave  him  to 
his  face,  he  threatened  him !  The  old  man  jumped  from 
his  chair,  and  moved  toward  his  son  as  if  he  would 
strike  him. 

"  Leave  the  room !  "  he  cried,  in  a  voice  choking  with 
rage, — "  leave  the  room  instantly !  Retire  to  your 
apartments,  and  take  care  not  to  leave  them  with- 
out my  orders.  To-morrow  I  will  give  you  my  de- 
cision." 

Albert  bowed  respectfully,  but  without  lowering  his 
eyes,  and  walked  slowly  to  the  door.  He  had  already 
opened  it,  when  M.  de  Commarin  experienced  one  of 
those  revulsions  of  feeling,  so  frequent  in  violent  na- 
tures. 

"  Albert,"  said  he,  "  come  back  and  listen  to  me." 

The  young  man  turned,  much  affected  by  this  change 
of  tone. 

"  Do  not  go,"  continued  the  count,  "  until  I  have 
asked  your  pardon.  You  are  worthy  of  being  the  heir  of 
a  great  house,  monsieur.  I  may  be  irritated  by  you ;  but 
I  can  never  lose  my  esteem  for  you.  You  are  a  noble 
man,  Albert.  Give  me  your  hand." 

This  was  a  happy  moment  for  both,  and  such  a  one 
as  they  had  scarcely  ever  experienced  in  their  lives,  re- 
strained as  they  had  been  by  cold  etiquette.  The  count 
felt  proud  of  his  son,  and  recognized  in  him  himself  at 
that  age.  As  for  Albert,  the  real  meaning  of  the  scene 
then  occurring  impressed  him :  it  had  until  now  escaped 


198  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

him.     For  a  long  time  their  hands  remained  clasped, 
without  either  being  able  to  utter  a  word. 

At  last,  M.  de  Commarin  resumed  his  seat  beneath 
the  genealogical  chart. 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  leave  me,  Albert."  he  said  frankly. 
"  I  must  be  alone,  to  reflect  upon,  to  try  and  accustom 
myself  to  this  terrible  blow." 

And,  as  the  young  man  closed  the  door,  he  added,  as 
if  giving  vent  to  his  inmost  thoughts, — 

"  If  he  deserts  me,  in  whom  I  have  placed  all  my 
hope,  what  will  become  of  me  ?  O  my  God !  And  what 
can  the  other  ever  be  to  me  ?  " 

Albert's  features,  when  he  left  the  count's  study,  bore 
traces  of  the  violent  emotions  he  had  felt  during  the  in- 
terview. The  servants  whom  he  met  noticed  it  the  more, 
as  they  had  heard  something  of  the  quarrel. 

"  Well,"  said  an  old  footman  who  had  been  in  the 
family  thirty  years,  "  the  count  has  had  another  unhappy 
scene  with  his  son.  The  old  fellow  has  been  in  a  dread- 
ful passion." 

"  I   got   wind   of  it  at  dinner,"  spoke  up  a  valet  de 
chambre:   "  the  count  restrained  himself  enough  not  to 
burst  out  before  me ;  but  he  rolled  his  eyes  fiercely." 
"  What  can  be  the  matter?  " 

"  Pshaw !  that's  more  than  they  know  themselves. 
Why,  Denis,  before  whom  they  always  speak  freely, 
says  that  they  often  wrangle  for  hours  together,  like 
dogs,  about  things  which  he  can  never  see  through." 

"  Ah,"  cried  out  a  young  fellow,  who  was  being 
trained  to  service,  "  if  I  were  in  the  viscount's  place, 
I'd  settle  the  old  gent  pretty  effectually !  " 

"  Joseph,  my  friend,"  said  the  footman  pointedly, 
"  you  are  a  fool.  You  might  give  your  father  his  walk- 
ing ticket  very  properly,  because  you  never  expect  five 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  199 

sous  from  him;  and  you  have  already  learned  how  to 
earn  your  living  without  doing  any  work  at  all.  But 
the  viscount,  pray  tell  me  what  he  is  good  for,  what  he 
knows  how  to  do  ?  Put  him  in  the  centre  of  Paris,  with 
only  his  fine  hands  for  capital,  and  you  will  see." 

"  Yes,  but  he  has  his  mother's  property  in  Nor- 
mandy," replied  Joseph. 

"  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me,"  said  the  -valet  de  chambrc, 
"  see  what  the  count  finds  to  complain  of ;  for  his  son 
is  a  perfect  model,  and  I  shouldn't  be  sorry  to  have  one 
like  him.  There  was  a  very  different  pair,  when  I  was 
in  the  Marquis  de  Courtivois's  service.  He  was  one 
who  made  it  a  point  never  to  be  in  good  humor.  His 
eldest  son,  who  is  a  friend  of  the  viscount's,  and  who 
comes  here  occasionally,  is  a  pit  without  a  bottom,  as 
far  as  money  is  concerned.  He"  will  fritter  away  a  thou- 
sand-franc note  quicker  than  Joseph  can  smoke  a  pipe." 

"  But  the  marquis  is  not  rich,"  said  a  little  old  man, 
who  himself  had  perhaps  the  enormous  wages  of  fifteen 
francs ;  "  he  can't  have  more  than  sixty  thousand  francs' 
income  at  the  most." 

"  That's  why  he  gets  angry.  Every  day  there  is  some 
new  story  about  his  son.  He  had  an  apartment  in  the 
house ;  he  went  in  and  out  when  he  pleased ;  he  passed 
his  nights  in  gaming  and  drinking;  he  cut  up  so  with 
the  actresses  that  the  police  had  to  interfere.  Besides 
all  this,  I  have  many  a  time  had  to  help  him  up  to  his 
room,  and  put  him  to  bed,  when  the  waiters  from  the 
restaurants  brought  mm  home  in  a  carriage,  so  drunk 
that  he  could  scarcely  say  a  word." 

"  Ha !  "  exclaimed  Joseph  enthusiastically,  "  this  fel- 
low's service  must  be  mighty  profitable." 

"  That  was  according  to  circumstances.  When  he 
won  at  play,  he  was  lavish  with  his  money;  but  he  al- 


200  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ways  lost :  and,  when  he  was  drunk,  he  had  a  quick  tem- 
per, and  didn't  spare  the  blows.  I  must  do  him  the  jus- 
tice to  say,  though,  that  his  cigars  were  splendid.  But 
he  was  a  ruffian ;  while  the  viscount  here  is  a  true  child 
of  wisdom.  He  is  severe  upon  our  faults,  it  is  true; 
but  he  is  never  harsh  nor  brutal  to  his  servants.  Then 
he  is  uniformly  generous ;  which  in  the  long  run  pays 
us  best.  I  must  say  that  he  is  better  than  the  majority, 
and  that  the  count  is  very  unreasonable." 

Such  was  the  judgment  of  the  servants.  That  of  so- 
ciety was  perhaps  less  favorable. 

The  Viscount  de  Commarin  was  not  one  of  those 
who  possess  the  rather  questionable  and  at  times  unen- 
viable accomplishment  of  pleasing  every  one.  He  was 
wise  enough  to  distrust  those  astonishing  personages 
who  are  always  praising  everybody.  In  looking  about 
us,  we  often  see  men  of  success  and  reputation,  who  are 
simply  dolts,  without  any  merit  except  their  perfect  in- 
significance. That  stupid  propriety  which  offends  no 
one,  that  uniform  politeness  which  shocks  no  one's  van- 
ity, have  peculiarly  the  gift  of  pleasing  and  of  succeed- 
ing. 

One  cannot  meet  certain  persons  without  saying,  "  I 
know  that  face ;  I  have  seen  it  somewhere,  before ;  "  be- 
cause it  has  no  individuality,  but  simply  resembles  faces 
seen  in  a  common  crowd.  It  is  "precisely  so  with  the 
minds  of  certain  other  people.  When  they  speak,  you 
know  exactly  what  they  are  going  to  say:  you  have 
heard  the  same  thing  so  many  times  already  from  them, 
you  know  all  their  ideas  by  heart.  These  people  are 
welcomed  everywhere :  because  they  have  nothing  pe- 
culiar about  them ;  and  peculiarity,  especially  in  the  up- 
per classes,  is  always  irritating  and  offensive :  they  de- 
test all  innovations. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  201 

Albert  was  peculiar;  consequently  much  discussed, 
and  very  differently  estimated.  He  was  charged  with 
sins  of  the  most  opposite  character,  with  faults  so  con- 
tradictory that  they  were  their  own  defence.  Some  ac- 
cused him,  for  instance,  of  entertaining  ideas  entirely  too 
liberal  for  one  of  his  rank ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  others 
complained  of  his  excessive  arrogance.  He  was  charged 
with  treating  with  insulting  levity  the  most  serious 
questions,  and  was  then  blamed  for  his  affectation  of 
gravity.  People  knew  him  scarcely  well  enough  to  love 
him,  while  they  were  jealous  of  him  and  feared  him. 

He  wore  a  bored  look  in  all  fashionable  reunions, 
which  was  considered  very  bad  taste.  Forced  by  his 
relations,  by  his  father,  to  go  into  society  a  great  deal, 
he  was  bored,  and  committed  the  unpardonable  sin  of 
letting  it  be  seen.  Perhaps  he  had  been  disgusted  by 
the  constant  court  made  to  him,  by  the  rather  coarse 
attentions  which  were  never  spared  the  noble  heir  of  one 
of  the  richest  families  in  France.  Having  all  the  nec- 
essary qualities  for  shining,  he  despised  them.  Dread- 
ful sin !  he  did  not  abuse  his  advantages ;  and  no  one 
ever  heard  of  his  getting  into  a  scrape. 

He  had  had  once,  it  was  said,  a  very  decided  liking 
for  Madame  Prosny,  perhaps  the  naughtiest,  certainly 
the  most  mischievous  woman  in  Paris ;  but  that  was  all. 
Mothers  who  had  daughters  to  dispose  of  upheld  him ; 
but,  for  the  last  two  years,  they  had  turned  against  him, 
when  his  love  for  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  became  well 
known. 

At  the  club  they  rallied  him  on  his  prudence.  He 
had  had,  like  others,  his  run  of  follies ;  but  he  had  soon 
got  disgusted  with  what  it  is  the  fashion  to  call  pleas- 
ure. The  noble  profession  of  bon  vivant  appeared  to 
him  very  tame  and  tiresome.  He  did  not  enjoy  passing 


202  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

his  nights  at  cards ;  nor  did  he  appreciate  the  society  of 
those  frail  sisters,  who  in  Paris  give  notoriety  to  their 
lovers.  He  affirmed  that  a  gentleman  was  not  neces- 
sarily an  object  of  ridicule  because  he  would  not  expose 
himself  in  the  theatre  with  these  women.  Finally,  none 
of  his  friends  could  ever  inoculate  him  with  a  passion 
for  the  turf. 

As  doing  nothing  wearied  him,  he  attempted,  like  the 
parvenu,  to  give  some  meaning  to  life  by  work.  He 
purposed,  after  a  while,  to  take  part  in  public  affairs ; 
and,  as  he  had  often  been  struck  with  the  gross  ignor- 
ance of  many  men  in  power,  he  wished  to  avoid  their 
example.  He  busied  himself  with  politics ;  and  this  was 
the  cause  of  all  his  quarrels  with  his  father.  The  one 
word  of  "  liberal  "  was  enough  to  throw  the  count  into 
convulsions  ;  and  he  suspected  his  son  of  liberalism,  ever 
since  reading  an  article  by  the  viscount,  published  in 
the  "  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes." 

His  ideas,  however,  did  not  prevent  his  fully  sustain- 
ing his  rank.  He  spent  most  nobly  on  the  world  the 
revenue  which  placed  his  father  and  himself  a  little 
above  it.  His  establishment,  distinct  from  the  count's, 
was  arranged  as  that  of  a  wealthy  young  gentleman's 
ought  to  be.  His  liveries  left  nothing  to  be  desired ;  and 
his  horses  and  equipages  were  celebrated.  Letters  of 
invitation  were  eagerly  sought  for  to  the  grand  hunting 
parties,  which  he  formed  every  year  towards  the  end 
of  October  at  Commarin, — an  admirable  piece  of  prop- 
erty, covered  with  immense  woods. 

Albert's  love  for  Claire — a  deep,  well-considered  love 
— had  contributed  not  a  little  to  keep  him  from  the  hab- 
its and  life  of  the  pleasant  and  elegant  idleness  indulged 
in  by  his  friends.  A  noble  attachment  is  always  a  great 
safeguard.  In  contending  against  it,  M.  de  Commarin 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  203 

had  only  succeeded  in  increasing  its  intensity  and  in- 
suring its  v  continuance.  This  passion,  so  annoying  to 
the  count,  was  the  source  of  the  most  vivid,  the  most 
powerful  emotions  in  the  viscount.  Ennui  was  ban- 
ished from  his  existence. 

All  his  thoughts  took  the  same  direction ;  all  his  ac- 
tions had  but  one  aim.  Could  he  look  to  the  right  or 
the  left,  when,  at  the  end  of  his  journey,  he  perceived 
the  reward  so  ardently  desired?  He  resolved  that  he 
would  never  have  any  wife  but  Claire;  his  father  ab- 
solutely refused  his  consent.  The  effort  to  change  this 
refusal  had  long  been  the  business  of  his  life.  Finally, 
after  three  years  of  perseverance,  he  had  triumphed; 
the  count  had  given  his  consent.  And  now,  just  as  he 
was  reaping  the  happiness  of  success,  Noel  had  arrived, 
implacable  as  fate,  with  his  cursed  letters. 

On  leaving  M.  de  Commarin,  and  while  slowly 
mounting  the  stairway  which  led  to  his  apartment,  Al- 
bert's thoughts  reverted  to  Claire.  What  was  she  do- 
ing at  this  moment  ?  Thinking  of  him,  without  a  doubt. 
She  knew  that  the  crisis  would  come  this  very  evening, 
or  to-morrow  at  the  latest.  She  must  be  praying. 

Albert  felt  broken  down.  His  suffering  was  intense. 
He  felt  dizzy ;  his  head  seemed  ready  to  burst.  He  rang 
and  ordered  some  tea. 

"  Monsieur  does  wrong  in  not  sending  for  the  doc- 
tor," said  Lubin,  his  valet  de  chambre.  "  I  ought  to  dis- 
obey you,  and  send  for  him  myself." 

"  It  would  be  useless,"  replied  Albert  sadly ;  "  he 
could  do  nothing  for  my  illness." 

As  the  valet  was  leaving  the  room,  he  added, — 

"  Say  nothing  about  my  suffering  to  any  one,  Lubin : 
it  is  nothing  at  all.  If  I  am  really  ill,  I  will  ring." 

At  this  moment,  to  see  any  one,  to  hear  a  voice,  to 


204  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

have  to  reply,  seemed  insupportable.  He  longed  to  be 
left  entirely  to  himself. 

After  the  painful  emotions  arising  from  his  explana- 
tions with  the  count,  he  could  not  sleep.  He  opened 
one  of  the  library  windows,  and  leaned  against  the 
casement.  It  was  a  beautiful  night:  and  there  was  a 
lovely  moon.  Seen  at  this  hour,  by  the  mild,  tremulous 
evening  light,  the  gardens  seemed  twice  their  usual  size. 
The  motionless  tops  of  the  great  trees  stretched  away 
like  an  immense  plain,  hiding  the  neighboring  houses. 
The  clumps  in  the  flower  garden,  set  off  by  the  green 
shrubbery,  appeared  like  great  black  figures ;  while  in  the 
carefully  sanded  walks  sparkled  particles  of  shell,  little 
pieces  of  glass,  and  the  polished  pebbles.  At  the  right, 
in  the  still  lighted  servants'  quarters,  could  be  heard  the 
servants  passing  to  and  fro;  and  the  step  of  a  groom 
sounded  on  the  pavement  in  the  court.  The  horses 
stamped  in  the  stable;  and  the  rattling  of  their  halter 
chains  against  the  bars  of  the  manger  could  be  distin- 
guished. In  the  carriage-house  they  were  unharnessing 
the  vehicle,  always  kept  ready  throughout  the  evening, 
in  case  the  count  should  wish  to  go  out. 

Albert  had  there  under  his  eyes  a  complete  picture  of 
his  magnificence.  He  sighed  deeply. 

"  Must  I,  then  lose  all  this  ?  "  he  murmured.  "  I  can 
scarcely,  even  for  myself,  abandon  so  many  splendors 
without  regret ;  and  thinking  of  Claire  makes  it  harder. 
Have  I  not  dreamed  of  a  life  of  exceptional  happi- 
ness for  her,  almost  impossible  to  realize  without 
wealth?" 

Midnight  sounded  from  St.  Clotilde,  whose  twin 
arrows  he  could  perceive  by  leaning  slightly  forward. 

He  shivered ;  it  was  growing  cold. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  205 

He  closed  his  window,  and  sat  down  near  the  fire, 
which  he  stirred  up.  In  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  respite 
from  his  thoughts  he  took  up  the  evening  paper,  in 
which  was  an  account  of  the  assassination  at  Jonchere ; 
but  he  found  it  impossible  to  read.  The  lines  danced 
before  his  eyes.  Then  he  thought  of  writing  to  Claire. 
He  sat  down  at  his  desk,  and  wrote,  "  My  dearly  loved 
Claire."  He  could  go  no  further;  his  distracted  brain 
could  not  furnish  him  with  a  single  sentence. 

At  last,  at  break  of  day,  weariness  overpowered  him, 
sleep  surprised  him,  on  a  sofa,  where  he  had  thrown 
himself, — a  heavy  sleep  peopled  with  phantoms. 

At  half-past  nine  in  the  morning,  he  was  awakened 
with  a  start,  by  the  noise  of  his  door  being  opened  with 
a  crash. 

A  servant  entered,  frightened,  so  breathless,  having 
come  up  the  stairway  four  steps  at  a  time,  that  he  could 
scarcely  speak. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  he,  "  viscount,  quick,  fly,  hide  your- 
self, save  yourself :  they  are  here,  they — " 

A  commissary  of  police  in  uniform  appeared  at  the 
library  door.  He  was  followed  by  a  number  of  men, 
among  whom  could  be  seen,  keeping  as  much  out  of 
sight  as  possible,  Pere  Tabaret. 

The  commissary  approached  Albert. 

"  You  are,"  he  asked,  "  Guy  Louis  Marie  Albert  de 
Rheteau  de  Commarin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

The  commissary  raised  his  hand,  while  pronouncing 
the  usual  formula. 

"  Monsieur  de  Commarin,  in  the  name  of  the  law  I 
arrest  you."' 

"  Me,  monsieur  ?  me  ?  " 


206  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Albert,  aroused  suddenly  from  his  painful  dreams, 
seemed  hardly  to  comprehend  what  was  taking  place. 
He  seemed  to  ask  himself, — 

"  Am  I  really  awake  ?  Is  not  this  some  hideous 
nightmare  ?" 

He  threw  a  stupid  look,  much  to  the  astonishment 
of  the  commissary  of  police,  upon  the  men,  and  upon 
Pere  Tabaret,  who  acted  very  much  as  though  he  was 
the  one  arrested. 

"  Here  is  the  warrant,"  added  the  commissary,  un- 
folding the  paper. 

Mechanically  Albert  glanced  over  it. 

"  Claudine  assassinated !  "  he  cried. 

Then  very  low,  but  distinct  enough  to  be  heard  by  the 
commissary,  by  one  of  the  officers,  and  by  Pere  Tabaret, 
he  added, — 

"  I  am  lost !  " 

While  the  commissary  was  making  the  formal  in- 
quiries, which  immediately  follow  all  arrests,  the  of- 
ficers spread  through  the  apartment,  and  proceeded  to  a 
searching  examination  of  them :  they  had  received  or- 
ders to  obey  Pere  Tabaret ;  and  the  old  fellow  guided 
them  in  their  researches,  made  them  ransack  drawers 
and  closets,  and  move  the  furniture.  They  seized  quite 
a  number  of  articles  belonging  to  the  viscount, — papers, 
manuscripts,  and  a  very  voluminous  correspondence; 
but  it  was  with  especial  delight  that  Pere  Tabaret  put 
his  hands  on  certain  articles,  which  were  carefully  de- 
scribed in  order  in  the  official  report. 

i.  In  the  first  room, — a  waiting-room,  hung  with  all 
sorts  of  weapons, — behind  a  sofa,  a  broken  foil.  This 
foil  had  a  peculiar  handle,  and  was  unlike  those  com- 
monly sold.  It  bore  the  count's  coronet,  with  the  in- 
itials A.  C.  It  had  been  broken  at  about  the  middle; 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  207 

and  the  end  could  not  be  found.  When  asked,  the  vis- 
count declared  that  he  could  give  no  account  as  to  what 
had  become  of  the  missing  end. 

2.  In  the  dressing-room,  pantaloons  of  black  cloth 
still  wet,  bearing  stains  of  mud  or  dirt.     All  one  side 
was  covered  with  greenish  moss,  as  if  the  wearer  had 
climbed  over  a  wall.     In  front,  there  were  numerous 
rents ;  and  near  the  knee  was  one  ten  centimetres  long. 
The  aforesaid  pantaloons  had  not  been  hung  up  in  the 
wardrobe,  but  appeared  to  have  been  hidden  between 
two  large  trunks  of  clothing. 

3.  In  the  pocket  of  the  above-described  pantaloons 
were  found  a  pair  of  pearl-gray  gloves.     The  palm  of 
the  right  hand  glove  showed  a  large  greenish  stain, 
produced  by  grass  or  moss.    The  end  of  the  fingers  had 
been  worn  by  rubbing.    Upon  the  back  of  both  gloves, 
scratches  were  noticed,  evidently  made  by  finger-nails. 

4.  Two  pairs  of  boots,  one  of  which,  well  cleaned, 
were  still  damp;  an  umbrella  recently  wetted,  the  end 
of  which  was  still  covered  with  white  mud. 

5.  In  a  large  room,  called  "  the  library,"  a  box  of 
cigars  of  the  trabucos  brand,  and  upon  the  mantel  a 
number  of  cigar-holders  in  amber  and  meerschaum. 

The  last  article  noted  down,  Pere  Tabaret  approached 
the  commissary  of  police. 

"  I  have  every  thing  I  could  desire,"  he  whispered. 

"  And  I  have  finished,  too,"  replied  the  commissary. 
"  This  chap  here  don't  seem  to  know  exactly  how  to  act. 
Do  you  see  ?  He  gave  in  on  the  first  attack.  I  suppose 
you  will  call  it  lack  of  experience." 

"  Before  the  day  is  over,"  replied  the  amateur  de- 
tective in  a  whisper,  "  he  won't  be  quite  so  crest-fallen. 
But  now,  suddenly  awakened,  you  know —  Always 
arrest  them  early  in  the  morning;  take  them  in  bed  be- 
fore they  are  awake." 

"  I  have  spoken  with  two  or  three  of  the  servants. 
They  tell  some  singular  stories." 


208  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Very  well :  we  shall  see.  But  I  must  hurry  and  find 
the  judge  of  inquiry,  who  will  be  impatient." 

Albert  began  to  revive  a  little  from  the  stupor  into 
which  he  had  been  plunged  on  the  entrance  of  the  com- 
missary of  police. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  asked,  "  will  you  permit  me  to  say 
a  few  words  in  your  presence  to  the  Count  de  Com- 
marin?  I  am  a  victim  of  some  mistake,  which  will  be 
quickly  remedied." 

"  It's  always  a  mistake,"  muttered  Pere  Tabaret. 

"  What  you  ask  is  impossible,"  replied  the  commis- 
sary. "  I  have  special  orders  of  the  strictest  sort.  You 
cannot  henceforth  communicate  with  a  living  soul.  A 
carriage  is  in  waiting  below.  Will  you  descend  ?  " 

In  crossing  the  vestibule,  Albert  noticed  great  agita- 
tion among  the  servants.  They  all  seemed  to  have  lost 
their  senses.  Denis  gave  orders  in  a  sharp,  imperative 
tone.  Then  he  thought  he  heard  that  the  Count  de  Com- 
marin  had  been  struck  with  apoplexy.  After  that,  he 
remembered  nothing. 

They  almost  carried  him  to  the  carriage ;  which  drove 
off  as  fast  as  the  two  little  horses  could  go.  A  more 
rapid  vehicle  bore  away  Pere  Tabaret. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  visitor  who  risks  himself  in  the  labyrinth  of 
galleries  and  stairways  in  the  palais  de  justice,  and 
mounts  to  the  third  story  in  the  left  wing,  will  find 
himself  in  a  long,  low-studded  gallery,  badly  lighted  by 
narrow  windows,  and  pierced  at  short  intervals  by  little 
doors,  like  a  hall  at  the  ministry  or  at  a  lodging-house. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  209 

It  is  a  place  difficult  to  view  calmly,  the  imagination 
makes  it  appear  so  dark  and  dismal. 

It  needs  a  Dante  to  compose  an  inscription  to  place 
above  the  doors  which  lead  from  it.  From  morning  to 
night,  the  flagstones  resound  under  the  heavy  tread  of 
the  gendarmes,  who  accompany  the  prisoners.  You 
can  scarcely  recall  any  thing  but  sad  figures  there. 
There  are  the  parents  or  friends  of  the  accused,  the  wit- 
nesses, the  detectives.  In  this  gallery,  far  from  the 
sight  of  men,  the  judicial  curriculum  is  gone  through 
with. 

Each  one  of  the  little  doors,  which  has  its  number 
painted  over  it  in  black,  opens  into  the  office  of  a  judge 
of  inquiry.  All  the  rooms  are  just  alike :  if  you  see  one, 
you  have  seen  them  all.  They  have  nothing  terrible 
nor  sad  in  themselves;  and  yet  it  is  difficult  to  enter 
one  of  them  without  a  shudder.  They  are  cold.  The 
walls  all  seem  moist  with  the  tears  which  have  been 
shed  there.  You  shudder,  at  thinking  of  the  avowals 
wrested  from  criminals,  of  the  confessions  broken  with 
sobs  murmured  there. 

In  the  office  of  the  judge  of  inquiry,  Justice  clothes 
herself  in  none  of  that  apparel  which  she  afterwards 
dons  in  order  to  strike  fear  into  the  masses.  She  is  still 
simple,  and  almost  disposed  to  kindness.  She  says  to 
the  prisoner, — 

"  I  have  strong  reasons  for  thinking  you  guilty ; 
but  prove  to  me  your  innocence,  and  I  will  release 
you." 

On  entering  one  of  these  rooms,  a  stranger  would 
imagine  that  he  got  into  a  cheap  shop  by  mistake.  The 
furniture  is  of  the  most  primitive  sort,  as  is  the  case  in 
all  places  where  important  matters  are  transacted.  Of 
what  consequence  are  surroundings  to  the  judge  hunt- 


210  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ing  down  the  author  of  a  crime,  or  to  the  accused  who 
is  defending  his  life? 

A.  desk  full  of  documents  for  the  judge,  a  table  for 
the  clerk,  an  arm-chair,  and  one  or  two  chairs  besides 
comprise  the  entire  furniture  of  the  antechamber  of  the 
court  of  assize.  The  walls  are  hung  with  green  paper ; 
the  curtains  are  green,  and  the  floors  are  carpeted  in  the 
same  color.  Monsieur  Daburon's  office  bore  the  number 
fifteen. 

At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  had  arrived,  and 
was  waiting.  His  course  resolved  upon,  he  lost  not  an 
instant,  understanding  as  well  as  Pere  Tabaret  the  ne- 
cessity of  rapid  action.  So  he  had  already  had  an  inter- 
view with  the  imperial  solicitor,  and  had  consulted  the 
officers  of  the  police  judiciary. 

Besides  the  warrant  issued  against  Albert,  he  had 
despatched  summons  of  immediate  appearance,  before 
him,  to  the  Count  de  Commarin,  Madame  Gerdy,  Noel 
and  some  of  Albert's  servants. 

He  thought  it  essential  to  examine  all  these  before 
calling  in  the  prisoner. 

Under  his  orders,  ten  detectives  were  sent  into  the 
country ;  and  he  himself  sat  in  his  office,  like  a  general 
of  an  army,  who  sends  off  his  aides-de-camp  to  begin 
the  battle,  and  who  hopes  for  victory  through  his  com- 
binations. 

Often,  at  this  same  hour,  he  had  sat  in  this  same  of- 
fice, under  conditions  almost  identical.  A  crime  had 
been  committed :  he  believed  he  had  discovered  the  crim- 
inal ;  he  had  given  orders  for  his  arrest.  Was  not  that 
his  duty?  But  he  had  never  experienced  this  anxiety 
of  mind  which  disturbed  him  now.  Many  a  time  had 
he  issued  warrants  of  arrest,  without  having  nearly  half 
the  proofs  which  shone  out  so  clearly  in  the  present  case. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  211 

He  kept  repeating  this  to  himself;  and  yet  he  could 
not  quiet  this  dreadful  anxiety,  which  would  not  give 
him  a  moment's  rest. 

He  wondered  why  his  people  were  so  long  in  making 
their  appearance.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
counting  the  minutes,  drawing  out  his  watch  three  times 
within  the  quarter  of  an  hour,  to  compare  it  with  the 
clock.  Hearing  a  step  in  the  gallery,  nearly  deserted  at 
that  hour,  he  involuntarily  moved  near  the  door,  stopped 
and  listened. 

Some  one  knocked.  It  was  his  clerk,  late  this  morn- 
ing. 

There  was  nothing  particular  in  this  man;  he  was 
long  rather  than  large,  and  very  slim.  His  gait  was 
precise,  his  gestures  methodical;  his  face  was  as  im- 
passive as  if  it  had  been  cut  out  of  a  piece  of  yellow 
wood. 

He  was  thirty-four  years  of  age,  and  since  thirty  had 
taken  minutes  of  examination  for  four  judges  of  in- 
quiry in  succession.  It  is  said  that  he  could  hear,  with- 
out moving  a  muscle,  the  most  utter  absurdities. 

An  ingenious  writer  has  thus  defined  a  clerk,  "  A  pen 
for  the  judge  of  inquiry ;  a  personage  who  is  dumb  but 
speaks,  who  is  blind  but  writes,  who  is  deaf  but  hears." 
This  man  answered  the  definition.  His  name  was  Con- 
stant. 

He  bowed  to  the  judge,  and  excused  himself  for  his 
tardiness.  He  had  been  busy  with  his  book-keeping, 
which  he  did  every  morning ;  and  he  had  got  so  inter- 
ested in  it  that  his  wife  had  had  to  remind  him  of  the 
way  time  was  passing. 

"  You  are  still  in  good  time,"  said  Daburon ;  "  but 
we  shall  have  plenty  of  work :  so  you  had  better  get  your 
papers  ready." 


212  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Five  minutes  later,  the  usher  introduced  Noel  Gerdy. 

He  entered  with  an  easy  manner,  like  an  advocate 
who  had  considerable  practice  in  the  palais,  and  who 
knew  its  ways.  He  in  no  way  resembled,  this  morning, 
the  friend  of  Pere  Tabaret ;  still  less  could  he  have  been 
recognized  as  the  lover  of  Madame  Juliette.  He  was 
entirely  another  being,  or  rather  he  had  resumed  his 
customary  role. 

It  was  now  the  official  who  appeared, — one  who  rec- 
ognized his  confreres,  esteemed  his  friends,  was  be- 
loved in  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance. 

From  his  firm  step,  his  placid  face,  one  would  never 
imagine  that,  after  an  evening  of  emotion  and  excite- 
ment, after  a  stolen  visit  to  his  mistress,  he  had  passed 
the  night  by  the  pillows  of  a  dying  woman,  and  that  wo- 
man his  mother,  or  at  least  the  one  who  had  filled  his 
mother's  place. 

What  a  contrast  between  him  and  the  judge! 

The  judge  had  not  slept  either ;  and  you  could  see  lack 
of  rest  in  his  feebleness,  in  his  anxious  look,  in  the  dark 
circles  about  his  eyes.  The  front  of  his  shirt  was  all 
rumpled;  not  even  his  cuffs  were  fresh.  Occupied 
with  the  course  of  events,  the  soul  had  forgotten  the 
body.  Noel's  well-shaved  chin,  on  the  contrary,  rested 
upon  an  irreproachably  white  cravat ;  his  collar  had  not 
a  wrinkle ;  his  hair  and  his  whiskers  were  most  carefully 
brushed.  He  bowed  to  Daburon,  and  held  out  his  sum- 
mons. 

"  You  summoned  me,  monsieur,"  he  said ;  "  and  I 
am  at  your  orders." 

The  judge  of  inquiry  had  met  the  young  advocate 
several  times  in  the  lobbies  of  the  palais ;  and  he  recog- 
nized him  at  sight.  He  remembered  having  heard  this 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  213 

Gerdy  spoken  of  as  a  man  of  talent  and  promise,  whose 
reputation  was  fast  rising.  He  therefore  welcomed  him 
as  a  fellow-workman,  and  invited  him  to  be  seated. 

The  preliminaries  common  in  the  examinations  of 
all  witnesses  ended;  the  name,  surname,  age,  place  of 
business,  and  so  on  registered,  the  judge,  who  had  fol- 
lowed his  clerk  with  his  eyes  while  he  was  writing, 
turned  to  Noel. 

"  Do  you  know,  Monsieur  Gerdy,"  he  began,  "  the 
business  on  account  of  which  you  are  troubled  with  ap- 
pearing before  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  the  assassination  of  the  poor  old 
woman  at  Jonchere." 

"  Precisely,"  replied  Daburon. 

Then,  calling  to  mind  his  promise  to  Pere  Tabaret, 
he  added, — 

"  If  Justice  has  summoned  you  so  promptly,  it  is  be- 
cause we  have  found  your  name  often  mentioned  in  the 
papers  of  the  Widow  Lerouge." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  that,"  replied  the  advocate : 
"  we  have  been  much  interested  in  this  good  woman, 
who  was  my  nurse;  and  I  know  that  Madame  Gerdy 
wrote  to  her  quite  often." 

"  Very  well ;  you  can  then  give  me  some  information 
about  her." 

"  It  will  be,  I  fear,  monsieur,  very  incomplete.  I  know, 
very  little  about  this  poor  Mother  Lerouge.  I  was  taken 
from  her  at  a  very  early  age;  and  since  I  have  been  a 
man,  I  have  thought  little  about  her,  except  to  send 
her  occasionally  a  little  aid." 

"  You  have  never  visited  her  ?  '' 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  have  gone  there  many  times ;  but  I  re- 
mained only  a  few  moments  each  time.  Madame  Gerdy, 


214  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

who  has  often  seen  her,  and  to  whom  she  entrusted  all 
her  affairs,  could  enlighten  you  much  better  than  I, 
however." 

"  I  expect,"  said  the  judge,  "  to  see  Madame  Gerdy 
here ;  she  must  have  received  a  summons." 

"  She  has,  monsieur ;  but  it  will  be  impossible  for  her 
to  appear ;  she  is  ill." 

"Seriously?" 

"  So  seriously  that  you  will  be  obliged,  I  think,  to  give 
up  all  expectations  from  her  testimony.  She  is  attacked 
with  a  disease  which,  in  the  words  of  my  friend,  Dr. 
Herve,  never  pardons.  It  is  something  like  inflamma- 
tion of  the  brain, — encephalite,  if  I  am  not  mistaken. 
It  may  be  that  her  life  will  be  saved ;  but  she  will  never 
recover  her  reason.  If  she  does  not  die,  she  will  be  in- 
sane." 

Daburon  appeared  much  troubled. 

"  This  is  very  vexatious,"  he  muttered.  "  And  you 
think,  my  dear  sir,  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  obtain 
any  thing  from  her  ?  " 

"  It  is  useless  even  to  hope  for  it.  She  has  com- 
pletely lost  her  reason.  She  was,  when  I  left  her,  in 
such  a  state  of  utter  prostration  that  I  fear  she  cannot 
live  through  the  day." 

"  And  when  was  she  attacked  by  this  illness  ?  " 

"  Yesterday  evening." 

"Suddenly?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  apparently,  at  least ;  though  I  my- 
self think  she  has  been  suffering  from  it  for  the  last 
three  weeks  at  least.  But  yesterday,  on  rising  from 
dinner,  after  having  eaten  but  little,  she  took  up  a  news- 
paper; and,  by  a  most  unhappy  chance,  her  eyes  fell 
exactly  upon  the  lines  which  told  of  this  crime.  All  at 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  215 

once  she  uttered  a  loud  cry,  fell  back  in  her  chair,  and 
thence  slipped  to  the  floor,  murmuring,  '  Oh,  the  un- 
happy man,  the  unhappy  man ! ' : 

"  The  unhappy  woman,  you  mean." 

"  No,  monsieur.  I  spoke  advisedly.  Evidently  the 
exclamation  did  not  refer  to  my  poor  nurse." 

Upon  this  reply,  so  important  and  yet  made  in  the 
most  unconscious  tone,  Daburon  raised  his  eyes  to  the 
witness.  The  advocate  lowered  his  head. 

"And  then?  "  asked  the  judge,  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence, during  which  he  had  taken  a  few  notes. 

"  Those  words,  monsieur,  were  the  last  spoken  by 
Madame  Gerdy.  Assisted  by  our  servant,  I  carried  her 
to  her  bed.  The  doctor  was  called;  and,  since  then, 
she  has  not  recovered  consciousness.  The  doctor — " 

"  It  is  well,"  interrupted  Daburon,  "  Let  us  Leave 
that  for  the  present.  Do  you  know,  monsieur,  any  one 
who  might  have  been  at  enmity  with  the  Widow  Le- 
rouge  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"  She  had  no  enemies  ?  Well,  now  tell  me,  does  there 
exist  to  your  knowledge  any  one  having  any  interest 
whatever  in  the  death  of  this  poor  woman?" 

The  judge  of  inquiry,  in  putting  this  question,  kept 
his  eyes  fixed  on  Noel's  not  allowing  him  to  turn  or 
lower  his  head.  , 

The  advocate  started,  and  seemed  deeply  moved.  He 
was  disconcerted;  he  hesitated,  as  if  a  struggle  was 
going  on  within  him. 

Finally,  in  a  voice  which  was  by  no  means  firm,  he 
replied, — 

"  No,  no  one." 

"Is  that  really  true?"  demanded  the  judge  looking 


216  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

at  him  more  sternly.  "  You  know  no  one  whom  this 
crime  benefits,  or  whom  it  might  benefit, — absolutely 
no  one  ?  " 

"  I  know  only  one  thing,  monsieur,"  replied  Noel ; 
"  and  that  is,  that,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  has 
caused  me  an  irreparable  injury." 

"  At  last,"  thought  Daburon,  "  we  have  got  at  the 
letters ;  and  I  have  not  betrayed  poor  Pere  Tabaret. 
It  would  be  too  bad  to  cause  the  least  trouble  to  that 
zealous  and  invaluable  man." 

"  An  injury  to  you,  my  dear  sir?  "  he  replied;  "  you 
will,  I  hope,  explain  yourself." 

The  embarrassment,  of  which  Noel  had  already  given 
some  signs,  appeared  now  much  more  marked. 

"  I  am  aware,  monsieur,"  he  replied,  "  that  I  owe  jus- 
tice not  merely  the  truth,  but  the  whole  truth ;  but  there 
are  circumstances  involved  so  delicate  that  the  con- 
science of  a  man  of  honor  sees  danger  to  itself.  Then  it 
is  very  hard  to  be  obliged  to  unveil  these  sad  secrets, 
whose  revelations  may  sometime — " 

Daburon  interrupted  with  a  gesture.  Noel's  sad 
tone  impressed  him.  Knowing,  beforehand,  what  he 
was  about  to  hear,  he  was  pained  for  the  young  advo- 
cate. He  turned  to  his  clerk. 

"  Constant !  "  said  he  in  a  peculiar  tone. 

This  tone  was  evidently  a  signal ;  for  the  long  clerk 
arose  methodically,  put  his  pen  behind  his  ear,  and  went 
out  in  his  measured  tread. 

Noel  appeared  sensible  of  this  delicacy.  His  face 
expressed  the  strongest  gratitude:  his  look  returned 
thanks. 

"  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you,  monsieur,"  he  said 
with  suppressed  warmth,  "  for  your  generous  kindness. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  217 

What  I  have  to  say  is  very  painful;  but,  before  you 
now,  it  will  be  scarcely  an  effort  to  speak." 

"Fear  nothing,"  replied  the  judge;  "I  will  only 
retain  in  your  deposition  my  dear  sir,  what  seems  to  me 
absolutely  indispensable." 

"  I  feel  scarcely  master  of  myself,  monsieur,"  began 
Noel ;  "  so  pray  pardon  my  emotion.  If  any  words 
escape  me  that  seem  charged  with  bitterness,  excuse 
them ;  it  will  be  involuntarily.  Up  to  the  past  few 
days,  I  always  believed  that  I  was  the  offspring  of  il- 
licit love.  My  history  is  short.  I  have  been  honorably 
ambitious.  I  have  worked  hard.  He  who  has  no  name 
must  make  one,  you  know.  I  have  passed  a  quiet  life, 
retired  and  austere,  as  people  must,  who,  starting  at  the 
foot  of  the  ladder,  wish  to  reach  the  top.  I  worshipped 
her  whom  I  believed  to  be  my  mother ;  and  I  felt  con- 
vinced that  she  loved  me  in  return.  The  stain  of  my 
birth  had  some  humiliations  attached  to  it;  but  I  de- 
spised them.  Comparing  my  lot  with  that  of  so  many 
others,  I  felt  that  I  had  more  than  common  advantages. 
One  day,  Providence  placed  in  my  hands  all  the  letters 
which  my  father,  the  Count  de  Commarin,  had  written 
to  Madame  Gerdy  at  the  time  of  their  liaison.  On 
reading  these  letters,  I  was  convinced  that  I  was  not 
what  I  had  hitherto  believed  myself  to  be, — that  Mad- 
ame Gerdy  was  not  my  mother !  " 

And,  without  giving  Daburon  time  to  reply,  he  laid 
before  him  the  facts  which,  twelve  hours  before,  he  had 
recounted  to  Pere  Tabaret. 

It  was  the  same  story,  with  the  same  circumstances, 
the  same  abundance  of  precise  and  conclusive  details ; 
but  the  tone  was  entirely  changed.  Before  the  old  de- 
tective, the  young  advocate  had  been  emphatic  and 


218  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

violent ;  but  now,  in  the  office  of  the  judge  of  inquiry, 
he  had  restrained  and  sobered  his  violent  emotions. 

One  might  imagine  that  he  adapted  his  manner  to  his 
auditor,  wishing  to  produce  the  same  effect  on  both, 
and  using  that  method  which  would  best  accomplish  his 
purpose. 

To  Pere  Tabaret,  an  ordinary  mind,  he  used  the  ex- 
aggeration of  anger;  to  Daburon,  of  superior  intelli- 
gence, he  used  the  exaggeration  of  restraint. 

While  his  mind  rebelled  against  his  unjust  lot,  he 
nevertheless  seemed  to  bow,  armed  with  resignation, 
before  a  blind  fatality. 

With  genuine  eloquence  and  rare  happiness  of  ex- 
pression, he  drew  his  situation  on  the  day  following  the 
discovery, — his  grief,  his  perplexity,  his  doubts. 

To  support  this  moral  certainty,  there  needed  some 
positive  testimony.  Could  he  hope  for  this  from  the 
count  or  from  Madame  Gerdy,  both  interested  in  con- 
cealing the  truth?  No.  But  he  had  counted  upon 
that  of  his  nurse, — the  poor  old  woman  who  loved  him, 
and  who,  near  the  close  of  her  life,  would  be  glad  to  free 
her  conscience  from  this  heavy  load.  She  was  dead 
now ;  and  the  letters  became  mere  waste  papers  in  his 
hands. 

Then  he  passed  to  his  explanation  with  Madame 
Gerdy ;  and  he  gave  the  judge  even  fuller  details  than 
he  had  given  his  old  neighbor. 

She  had,  he  said,  at  first  utterly  denied  the  substitu- 
tion ;  but  he  gave  it  to  be  understood  that,  plied  with 
questions,  overcome  by  the  evidence,  in  a  moment  of 
despair  she  had  confessed  all,  declaring  at  the  same  time 
that  she  would  retract  and  deny  this  confession,  being 
resolved  at  all  hazards  that  her  son  should  preserve  his 
position. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  219 

From  this  scene,  in  the  advocate's  judgment,  the  first 
attacks  of  the  sickness,  to  which  she  had  finally  suc- 
cumbed, might  be  dated. 

Noel  then  described  his  interview  with  the  Viscount 
de  Commarin. 

In  his  narrative,  there  slipped  in  a  few  inaccuracies, 
but  so  slight  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  charge  him 
with  them.  Besides,  there  was  nothing  in  them  at  al? 
unfavorable  to  Albert. 

He  insisted,  on  the  contrary,  upon  the  excellent  im- 
pression which  he  had  received  of  that  young  man. 

Albert  had  received  the  revelation  with  a  certain  de- 
fiance, it  is  true,  but  with  a  noble  firmness  at  the  same 
time,  and  like  a  brave  heart,  was  ready  to  bow  before  the 
justification  of  right. 

In  fact,  he  drew  an  almost  enthusiastic  portrait  of 
this  rival,  who  had  not  been  spoiled  by  prosperity,  who 
had  left  him  without  a  look  of  hatred,  towards  whom  he 
felt  himself  drawn,  and  who  after  all  was  his  brother. 

Daburon  had  listened  to  Noel  with  the  most  unre- 
mitting attention,  without  a  word,  a  movement,  a  frown, 
betraying  his  feelings.  When  he  had  ended, — 

"  How,  monsieur,"  observed  the  judge,  "  could  you 
have  told  me  that,  in  your  opinion,  no  one  was  inter- 
ested in  the  death  of  the  Widow  Lerouge  ?  " 

The  advocate  made  no  reply. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  the  Viscount  de  Commarin's 
position  has  by  it  become  almost  impregnable.  Madame 
Gerdy  is  insane ;  the  count  will  deny  all ;  your  letters 
prove  nothing.  It  is  evident  that  the  crime  is  of  the 
greatest  service  to  this  young  man,  and  that  it  was 
committed  at  a  singularly  favorable  moment." 

"  O  monsieur !  "  cried  Noel,  protesting  with  all  his 
energy,  "  this  insinuation  is  dreadful." 


220  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  judge  watched  the  advocate's  face  narrowly. 
Was  he  speaking  frankly,  or  was  he  but  playing  the 
generous  role  ?  Could  it  really  be  that  he  had  never  had 
any  suspicion  of  this?  Noel  did  not  flinch  under  the 
gaze,  but  almost  immediately  continued, — 

"  What  reason  could  Albert  have  for  trembling,  fear- 
ing for  his  position  ?  I  did  not  utter  one  word  of  threat, 
even  indirectly.  I  did  not  present  myself  raging,  like 
a  robbed  man,  who  demands  that  every  thing  which  had 
been  taken  from  him  should  be  restored  on  the  spot.  I 
merely  presented  the  facts  to  Albert,  saying,  '  Here, 
what  do  you  think  we  ought  to  do?  Be  the  judge.'  " 

"  And  he  asked  you  for  time  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  had  just  suggested  his  accompanying  me 
to  the  Widow  Lerouge,  whose  testimony  might  dispel  all 
doubts ;  he  did  not  seem  to  understand  me.  But  he  was 
well  acquainted  with  her,  having  often  visited  her  with 
the  count,  who  supplied  her,  I  have  since  learned,  lib- 
erally with  money." 

"  Does  not  this  generosity  appear  to  you  very  sin- 
gular?" 

"  No." 

"  Can  you  explain  why  the  viscount  did  not  appear 
disposed  to  accompany  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  He  said  that  he  wished,  before  all,  to 
have  an  explanation  with  his  father,  who  was  then  ab- 
sent, but  who  would  return  within  a  few  days." 

The  truth,  as  all  the  world  knows,  and  delights  in 
proclaiming,  has  an  accent  which  no  one  can  mistake. 
Daburon  had  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  his  witness's 
good  faith.  Noel  continued  with  an  ingenuous  candor, 
like  an  honest  heart,  which  suspicion  has  never  touched 
with  its  bat's  wing. 

"  The  idea  of  treating  at  once  with  my  father  pleased 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  221 

me  exceedingly.  I  consider  it  so  much  better  to  wash 
all  one's  dirty  linen  at  home,  that  I  have  never  desired 
any  thing  but  an  amicable  arrangement.  With  my 
hands  full  of  proofs,  I  should  still  recoil  from  a  public 
trial." 

"  Would  you  not  have  brought  an  action  ?  " 

"  Never,  monsieur,  at  any  price.  Could  I,"  he  added, 
proudly,  "  on  assuming  my  rightful  name,  begin  by  dis- 
honoring it  ?  " 

For  once,  Daburon  could  not  conceal  his  sincere  ad- 
miration. 

"  A  most  praiseworthy  feeling,  monsieur,"  he  said. 

"  I  think,"  replied  Noel,  "  it  is  but  natural.  If  the 
worse  came  to  the  worst,  I  had  determined  to  leave  my 
title  with  Albert.  Certainly  the  name  of  Commarin  is 
an  illustrious  one;  but  I  hope  that,  within  ten  years, 
mine  will  be  equally  so.  I  would  have  simply  de- 
manded a  large  pecuniary  compensation.  I  possess 
nothing ;  and  I  have  often  been  hampered  in  my  career 
by  this  miserable  question  of  money.  That  which  Mad- 
ame Gerdy  owed  to  the  generosity  of  my  father  was 
almost  entirely  spent.  My  education  had  absorbed  a 
great  part  of  it;  and  it  was  long  before  my  profes- 
sion covered  my  expenses.  Madame  Gerdy  and  I 
lived  very  quietly;  but,  unfortunately,  though  sim- 
ple in  her  tastes,  she  lacked  economy  and  system: 
and  no  one  can  imagine  how  great  our  expenses 
have  been.  But  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself 
with,  whatever  happens.  From  the  commencement, 
I  have  kept  my  anger  well  under  control ;  and 
even  now  I  bear  no  ill-will.  On  learning  of  the  death 
of  my  nurse,  though,  I  cast  all  my  hopes  into  the  sea." 

"  You  are  wrong,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  judge.  "  I 
advise  you  to  still  hope.  Perhaps,  before  the  end  is 


222  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

reached,  you  will  yet  enter  into  possession  of  your 
rights.  Justice,  I  will  not  conceal  from  you,  thinks  she 
has  found  the  assassin  of  the  Widow  Lerouge.  At 
this  moment,  the  Viscount  Albert  is  doubtless  under 
arrest." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Noel  with  a  sort  of  stupor ; 
"  can  it  be  true?  I  was,  then,  not  mistaken,  monsieur, 
in  the  meaning  of  your  words.  I  dreaded  to  under- 
stand them." 

"  You  have  not  mistaken  me,  monsieur,"  said  Dabu- 
ron.  "  I  thank  you  for  your  sincere,  straightforward 
explanations ;  they  have  eased  my  task  materially.  To- 
morrow,— for  to-day  my  time  is  all  taken  up, — we  will 
regularly  take  your  deposition,  at  this  same  hour,  if 
convenient  to  you.  There  is  nothing  more,  I  believe, 
except  to  ask  you  for  the  letters  in  your  possession,  and 
which  are  indispensable  to  me." 

"  Within  an  hour,  monsieur,  you  shall  have  them," 
replied  Noel. 

And  he  retired,  after  having  warmly  expressed  his 
gratitude  to  the  judge  of  inquiry. 

Less  preoccupied,  the  advocate  perceived  at  the  end 
of  the  gallery  Pere  Tabaret,  who  had  just  arrived, 
eager  and  happy,  like  a  bearer  of  good  news  as  he  was. 

His  carriage  had  scarcely  stopped  before  the  gate  of 
the  palais  de  justice  before  he  was  in  the  court,  and 
rushing  towards  the  porch.  To  see  him  jumping  more 
nimbly  than  a  fifth  rate  lawyer's  clerk  up  the  steep 
flight  of  stairs  leading  to  the  judge's  office,  you  would 
never  believe  that  he  had  been  years  on  the  shady  side 
of  fifty.  Even  he  doubted  the  fact.  He  did  not  re- 
member having  passed  the  dark  line :  he  had  never  felt 
so  fresh,  so  agile,  in  such  spirits ;  he  had  springs  of 
steel  in  his  limbs. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  223 

He  crossed  the  gallery  in  two  jumps,  and  burst  like 
a  cannon  shot  into  the  judge's  apartment,  hustling 
against  the  methodical  clerk  in  the  rudest  of  ways, 
without  even  asking  his  pardon. 

"  Caught !  "  he  cried,  while  yet  on  the  threshold, 
"  caught,  nipped,  squeezed,  strung,  trapped,  locked ! 
We  have  got  our  man." 

Pere  Tabaret,  more  "  Tirauclair  "  than  ever,  ges- 
ticulated with  such  comical  vehemence  and  such  re- 
markable contortions  that  even  the  long  clerk  smiled; 
for  which,  however,  he  took  himself  severely  to  task, 
on  going  to  bed  that  night. 

But  Daburon,  still  under  the  influence  of  Noel's  de- 
position, was  shocked  at  this  apparently  unseasonable 
joy;  although  he  felt  the  safer  for  it.  He  looked  se- 
verely at  Pere  Tabaret,  saying, — 

"  Hush,  monsieur ;  be  decent ;  compose  yourself." 

At  any  other  time,,  the  old  fellow  would  have  been 
frightened  at  having  deserved  such  a  reprimand.  Now 
it  made  no  impression  on  him. 

"  I  can't  be  quiet,"  he  replied ;  "  and  I  am  proud  of 
it.  Never  has  any  thing  like  it  been  seen.  All  that  I 
predicted  has  been  found.  Broken  foil,  pearl  gray 
gloves  slightly  frayed,  cigar-holder;  nothing  is  want- 
ing. You  shall  have  them,  monsieur,  and  many  more 
like  them.  I  have  a  little  system  of  my  own,  which 
appears  by  no  means  a  bad  one.  Just  see  the  triumph 
of  my  method  of  induction,  which  Gevrol  ridiculed  so. 
I'd  give  a  hundred  francs  if  he  were  only  here  now. 
But  no:  my  Gevrol  wants  to  nab  the  man  with  the 
earrings ;  he  is  capable  of  doing  just  that.  He  is  a  fine 
fellow,  this  Gevrol,  a  famous  fellow!  How  much  do 
you  give  him  a  year  for  his  skill  ?  " 

"  Come,  my  dear  Tabaret,"  said  the  judge,  as  soon 


224  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

as  he  could  get  a  word  in,  "  be  serious,  if  you  can,  and 
let  us  proceed  regularly." 

"  Pshaw !  "  replied  the  old  fellow,  "  what  good  will 
it  do?  It  is  a  clear  case  now.  When  they  bring  our 
man  before  you,  show  him  simply  the  particles  taken 
from  the  fingers  of  the  victim  side  by  side  with  his  torn 
gloves;  and  you  will  overwhelm  him.  I  wager  that 
he  will  confess  all,  hie  et  nunc, — yes,  I  wager  my  head 
against  his:  although  that's  pretty  risky;  for  he  will 
get  off  yet !  These  milksops  on  the  jury  are  just  capa- 
ble of  according  him  extenuating  circumstances.  I'd 
give  him  extenuating  circumstances.  Ah !  these  snails 
destroy  justice!  Why,  if  all  the  world  were  of  my 
mind,  the  punishment  of  these  rascals  wouldn't  take 
such  a  time !  The  moment  they  were  captured,  that 
moment  they  should  be  strung  up.  That's  my  opin- 
ion." 

Daburon  resigned  himself  to  this  shower  of  words. 
When  the  old  fellow's  excitement  had  cooled  down  a 
little,  he  simply  began  questioning  him.  He  was  even 
then  in  great  trouble  to  obtain  the  exact  details  of  the 
arrest, — details  which  might  confirm  the  official  re- 
port of  the  commissary  of  police. 

The  judge  appeared  much  surprised  at  hearing  that 
Albert,  at  sight  of  the  warrant,  had  exclaimed,  "  I  am 
lost!" 

"  That,"  muttered  he,  "  is  a  terrible  proof  against 
him." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Pere  Tabaret.  "  In  his  ordi- 
nary state,  he  would  never  have  allowed  these  words  to 
escape  him ;  which  in  fact  destroy  him.  It  was  be- 
cause we  arrested  him  when  he  was  scarcely  awake. 
He  hadn't  been  in  bed,  but  was  lying  in  a  troubled 
sleep,  upon  a  sofa,  when  we  arrived.  I  took  good  care 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  225 

to  send  a  frightened  servant  in  in  advance,  and  then  to 
follow  closely  upon  him  myself;  because  he  was  thus 
demoralized.  All  my  calculations  were  made.  But, 
never  fear,  he  will  find  a  plausible  excuse  for  this  fatal 
exclamation.  By  the  way,  I  should  add  that  we  found 
on  the  floor,  near  by,  last  evening's  '  Gazette  de  France  ' 
all  rumpled,  which  contained  the  report  of  the  assassina- 
tion. This  is  the  first  time  that  a  piece  of  news  in  the 
papers  ever  helped  to  nab  a  criminal." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  judge,  deep  in  thought, — 
"  yes,  you  are  a  valuable  man,  Tabaret."  Then,  louder, 
he  added,  "  I  am  thoroughly  convinced ;  for  Noel 
Gerdy  has  just  this  moment  left  me." 

"  You  have  seen  Noel,"  cried  the  old  fellow. 

On  the  instant  all  his  proud  self-satisfaction  disap- 
peared. A  cloud  of  anxiety,  like  a  veil,  spread  over  his 
face,  and  eclipsed  his  joy. 

"  Noel  here,"  he  repeated ;  then  timidly  added,  "  and 
does  he  know  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Daburon.  "  I  had  no  need  of 
bringing  you  in.  Besides,  had  I  not  promised  absolute 
secrecy  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that's  all  right,"  cried  Pere  Tabaret.  "  And 
what  do  you  think  of  Noel  ?  " 

"  His  is,  I  am  sure,  a  noble,  worthy  heart,"  said  the 
magistrate, — "  a  nature  both  strong  and  tender.  The 
sentiments  which  I  heard  him  express  here,  and  the 
genuineness  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  doubt,  mani- 
fested an  elevation  of  soul,  unhappily,  very  rare.  Sel- 
dom in  my  life  have  I  met  with  a  man  who  so  won  my 
sympathy  from  the  first.  I  can  well  understand  one's 
pride  in  being  among  his  friends." 

"  Just  what  I  said ;  he  has  precisely  the  same  effect 
upon  every  one.  I  love  him  as  though  he  were  my 


226  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

own  child ;  and,  whatever  happens,  he  is  to  inherit  my 
entire  fortune;  yes,  I  intend  leaving  him  every  thing. 
My  will  is  made,  and  in  the  hands  of  Baron,  my  notary. 
There  is  a  legacy,  too,  for  Madame  Gerdy;  but  I  am 
going  to  scratch  that  out  at  once." 

"  Madame  Gerdy,  Tabaret,  will  soon  be  beyond  all 
need  of  worldly  goods." 

"  How,  what  do  you  mean  ?     Has  the  count — " 

"  She  is  dying,  and  will  hardly  last  through  the  day ; 
Monsieur  Gerdy  told  me  so  himself." 

"  Ah !  heavens !  "  cried  the  old  fellow,  "  what  do 
you  tell  me?  dying?  Noel  will  go  distracted;  but 
no :  since  she  is  not  his  mother,  how  can  it  affect  him  ? 
Dying  ?  I  was  so  fond  of  her  before  this  discovery.  Poor 
humanity!  It  seems  as  though  all  the  accomplices  in 
that  great  sin  are  passing  away  at  the  same  time ;  for  I 
forgot  to  tell  you,  that,  just  as  I  was  leaving  the  Hotel 
de  Commarin,  I  heard  a  servant  telling  another  that  the 
count  at  the  news  of  his  son's  arrest  had  fallen  in  a  fit 
of  apoplexy." 

"  That  will  be  the  worst  of  misfortunes  for  young 
Gerdy." 

"For  Noel?" 

"  I  had  counted  upon  M.  de  Commarin's  testimony 
to  recover  for  him  all  that  he  so  well  deserves.  The 
count  dead,  the  Widow  Lerouge  dead,  Madame  Gerdy 
dying,  or  in  any  event  insane,  who  then  can  tell  us 
whether  the  plan  detailed  in  these  letters  was  ever  car- 
ried into  execution  ?  " 

"  True/'  murmured  Pere  Tabaret ;  "  it  is  true !  And 
I  did  not  see  it.  What  fatality !  For  I  am  not  de- 
ceived; I  am  certain  that — " 

He  did  not  finish.  Daburon's  office  door  opened ;  and 
the  Count  de  Commarin  himself  appeared  in  the  flesh, 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  227 

as  stately  as  one  of  those  old  portraits  which  you  might 
imagine  frozen  in  their  gilded  frames. 

The  old  gentleman  signed  with  his  hand;  and  the 
two  servants  who  had  helped  him  up  as  far  as  the 
gallery,  sustaining  him  on  either  side,  retired. 


CHAPTER  XL 

IT  was  the  Count  de  Commarin,  or  rather  his 
shadow.  His  head,  usually  carried  so  high,  fell  upon 
his  breast ;  his  figure  was  bent ;  his  eyes  had  no  longer 
their  accustomed  fire;  his  fair  hands  trembled.  The 
extreme  disorder  of  his  dress  rendered  more  striking 
still  the  change  which  had  come  over  him.  In  one 
night,  he  had  grown  twenty  years  older. 

These  robust  old  men  resemble  great  trees  whose 
inner  wood  has  crumbled  away,  and  whose  only  life  is 
in  the  bark  without. 

They  are  apparently  unshaken,  they  seem  to  set 
time  at  defiance;  yet  one  blast  of  wind  casts  them  to 
the  earth.  This  man,  yesterday  so  proud  of  never  hav- 
ing bent  to  a  storm,  was  now  completely  prostrated. 
The  pride  of  his  name  had  constituted  his  entire 
strength;  that  humbled,  he  seemed  utterly  over- 
whelmed. In  him  every  thing  gave  way  at  once ;  all 
his  supports  failed  him  at  the  same  time.  His  cold, 
lifeless  gaze  revealed  the  dull  stupor  of  his  thoughts. 
He  presented  such  an  image  of  utter  despair  that  the 
judge  of  inquiry  shuddered  at  the  sight.  Tabaret 
looked  frightened,  and  even  the  clerk  seemed  moved. 

"  Constant,"  said  Monsieur  Daburon  quickly,  "  go 
with  Monsieur  Tabaret,  and  see  if  there's  any  news  at 
the  prefecture." 


228  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

The  clerk  left  the  room,  followed  by  the  old  man, 
who  went  away  regretfully.  The  count  had  not  noticed 
their  presence ;  he  paid  no  attention  to  their  departure. 

Daburon  offered  him  a  seat,  which  he  accepted  with 
a  sad  smile.  "  I  feel  so  weak,"  said  he,  "  you  must 
excuse  my  sitting." 

Apologies  to  an  inferior  magistrate!  What  an  ad- 
vance in  civilization,  when  the  nobility  consider  them- 
selves subject  to  the  law,  and  bow  to  its  decrees!  It 
was  far  different  when  the  Duchess  of  Bouillon  mocked 
at  parliament,  when  the  haughty  nobles  that  infested 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  treated  with  the  greatest  in- 
dignity the  counsellor  of  the  chambre  d'ardente.  All 
the  world  respects  justice  nowadays;  and  an  innocent 
man  need  fear  but  little,  even  when  defended  only  by  a 
simple,  conscientious  judge  of  inquiry. 

"  You  are  perhaps  too  unwell,  count,"  said  the  judge, 
"  to  give  me  the  explanations  I  had  hoped  for." 

"  I  am  better,  thank  you,"  replied  Monsieur  de  Com- 
marin,  "  than  I  have  been  since  the  terrible  blow  has 
fallen  upon  me.  When  I  heard  of  the  crime  of  which 
my  son  is  accused,  and  of  his  arrest,  I  was  stunned.  I 
believed  myself  strong ;  I  find  myself  a  poor,  weak  old 
man.  My  servants  thought  me  dead.  Would  that  I 
were.  The  strength  of  my  constitution,  my  physician 
tells  me,  was  all  that  saved  me ;  but  I  know  that  heaven 
has  kept  me  alive,  that  I  may  drink  to  the  bitter  dregs 
this  cup  of  humiliation." 

He  stopped  for  a  moment,  choked  by  a  flow  of  blood 
that  rose  to  his  mouth. 

The  judge  of  inquiry  remained  near  the  table,  not 
daring  to  move. 

After  a  few  moments'  rest,  the  count  found  relief, 
and  proceeded. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  229 

"  Unhappy  man  that  I  am !  did  I  not  expect  it  ? 
Every  thing  comes  to  light  sooner  or  later.  I  am  pun- 
ished for  my  great  sin, — pride.  I  thought  myself  out 
of  reach  of  the  thunderbolt ;  and  I  have  been  the  means 
of  drawing  down  the  storm  upon  my  house.  Albert 
an  assassin !  A  Viscount  de  Commarin  arraigned  be- 
fore a  court  of  assize!  Ah,  monsieur,  punish  me,  too; 
for  I  alone  and  long  ago,  laid  the  foundation  of  this 
crime.  A  race  bearing  for  fifteen  centuries  a  spotless 
name  closes  with  me  in  infamy." 

Daburon  considered  the  conduct  of  the  Count  de 
Commarin  unpardonable,  and  had  determined  not  to 
spare  him. 

He  had  expected  to  meet  a  proud,  haughty  noble, 
almost  unmanageable;  and  he  had  resolved  to  humble 
his  arrogance. 

Perhaps  the  harsh  treatment  he  had  received  of  old 
from  the  Marquise  d'Arlanges  had  given  him,  uncon- 
sciously, a  slight  grudge  against  aristocracy. 

He  had  vaguely  thought  of  certain  rather  severe  re- 
marks, which  were  to  overcome  the  old  gentleman,  and 
bring  him  to  his  senses. 

But,  when  he  found  in  his  presence  a  real  penitent, 
his  indignation  changed  to  profound  pity ;  and  he  asked 
himself  how  he  could  assuage  his  grief. 

"  Write,  monsieur,"  continued  the  count,  with  an  ex- 
ultation of  which  he  would  not  have  been  capable  ten 
minutes  before, — "  write  my  avowal  withholding  noth- 
ing. I  have  no  longer  need  of  mercy  nor  of  tenderness. 
What  have  I  to  fear  now  ?  Is  not  my  disgrace  public  ? 
Must  not  I,  Count  Rheteau  de  Commarin,  appear  before 
the  tribunal,  to  proclaim  the  infamy  of  our  house  ?  Ah ! 
all  is  lost  now,  even  honor  itself.  Write,  monsieur ;  my 
wish  is,  that  all  the  world  shall  know  that  I  am  the  most 


230  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

to  blame.  But  they  shall  also  know  that  already  the 
punishment  has  been  terrible,  and  that  there  is  no  new 
need  of  this  last  and  mortal  trial." 

The  count  interrupted  himself,  to  concentrate  and  ar- 
range his  memory. 

He  continued,  then,  with  a  firmer  voice,  adapting  his 
tone  to  what  he  had  to  say, — 

"  When  I  was  of  Albert's  age,  monsieur,  my  parents 
made  me  marry,  in  spite  of  my  protestations,  the  noblest 
and  purest  of  young  girls.  I  made  her  the  most  un- 
happy of  women.  I  could  not  love  her.  I  cherished  a 
most  passionate  love  for  a  mistress,  who  had  trusted 
herself  to  me,  and  whom  I  had  loved  for  many  years. 
I  found  her  rich  in  beauty,  purity,  and  soul.  Her  name 
was  Valerie.  My  heart  is  dead  and  cold  in  me,  mon- 
sieur ;  but,  ah !  when  I  pronounce  that  name,  it  calls  me 
again  to  life.  In  spite  of  my  marriage,  I  could  not  in- 
duce myself  to  part  from  her ;  nor  did  she  wish  it.  The 
idea  of  a  disgraceful  separation  was  revolting  to  her; 
for  she  loved  me  then.  Our  relations  continued. 

"  My  wife  and  my  mistress  became  mothers  at  nearly 
the  same  time.  This  coincidence  suggested  to  me  the 
sad  idea  of  sacrificing  my  legitimate  son  to  his  less  for- 
tunate brother.  I  communicated  this  project  to  Valerie. 
To  my  surprise,  she  refused  it  with  horror.  Already  the 
maternal  instinct  had  awakened  in  her;  she  would  not 
be  separated  from  her  child.  I  have  preserved,  as  a 
memento  of  my  folly,  the  letters  which  she  wrote  to  me 
at  this  time.  I  have  re-read  them  only  this  night.  Ah ! 
how  could  I  have  refused  sboth  her  arguments  and  her 
prayers  ?  It  was  because  I  was  mad.  She  had  the  same 
presentiment  of  evil  which  weighs  me  down  to-day.  But 
I  came  to  Paris.  I  had  absolute  control  over  her.  I 
threatened  to  leave  her,  never  to  see  her  again.  She 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  231 

yielded;  and  my  valet  and  Claudine  Lerouge  were 
charged  with  this  wicked  substitution.  It  is  therefore, 
the  son  of  my  mistress  w.ho  wears  the  title  of  Viscount 
de  Commarin,  and  who  was  arrested  but  an  hour  since." 

Daburon  had  not  hoped  for  a  declaration  so  clear,  and 
above  all  so  prompt.  He  secretly  rejoiced  for  the  young 
advocate,  whose  sentiments  had  so  won  upon  him. 

"  So,  count,"  said  he,  "  you  acknowledge  that  Noel 
Gerdy  was  the  issue  of  your  legitimate  marriage,  and 
that  he  alone  is  entitled  to  bear  your  name  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur.  Alas !  I  was  then  more  delighted  at 
the  success  of  my  project  than  I  should  have  been  over 
the  most  brilliant  victory.  I  was  so  intoxicated  with  the 
joy  of  having  my  Valerie's  child  there,  near  me,  that  I 
forgot  every  thing.  I  had  transferred  to  him  a  part  of 
my  love  for  his  mother ;  or,  rather,  I  loved  him  still  bet- 
ter, if  that  be  possible.  The  thought  that  he  would  bear 
my  name,  that  he  would  inherit  all  my  wealth,  to  the 
detriment  of  the  other,  transported  me  with  delight.  The 
other,  I  hated;  I  could  not  even  look  upon  him.  I  do 
not  recollect  having  embraced  him  twice  even. 

"  It  vas  on  this  point  alone  that  Valerie,  who  was 
very  good,  reproached  me  severely. 

"  One  thing  alone  interfered  with  my  happiness.  The 
Countess  de  Commarin  adored  him  whom  she  believed 
to  be  her  son,  and  always  wished  to  have  him  on  her 
knees.  I  cannot  express  what  I  suffered  at  seeing  my 
wife  cover  with  kisses  and  caresses  the  child  of  my 
mistress. 

"  But  I  kept  him  from  her  as  much  as  I  could ;  and 
she,  poor  girl!  not  understanding  what  was  passing 
within  me,  imagined  that  I  was  doing  every  thing  to 
keep  her  son  from  loving  her.  She  died,  monsieur,  with 
this  idea,  which  poisoned  her  last  days.  She  died  of  sor- 


232  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

row ;  but  saintlike,  without  a  complaint,  without  a  mur- 
mur, pardon  upon  her  lips  and  in  her  heart." 

Much  pressed  for  time,  Daburon,  however,  did  not 
dare  to  interrupt  the  count,  and  ask  him  briefly  for  the 
immediate  facts  of  the  case.  He  knew  that  fever  alone 
gave  him  this  energy,  to  which  a  moment  after  might 
succeed  the  most  complete  prostration.  He  feared,  if 
he  stopped  him  for  an  instant,  that  he  would  not  have 
strength  enough  to  begin  again. 

"  I  had  not,"  continued  the  count,  "  a  tear  for  her. 
What  had  she  been  in  my  life  ?  A  cause  of  sorrow  and 
remorse.  But  the  justice  of  God,  in  advance  of  man's, 
took  a  terrible  revenge.  One  day,  I  w.as  warned  that 
Valerie  had  deceived  me,  and  had  broken  with  me  for 
a  long  time.  I  could  not  believe  it  at  first;  it  seemed 
to  me  impossible,  absurd.  I  would  have  sooner  doubted 
myself  than  her.  I  had  taken  her  from  a  garret,  where 
she  had  worked  sixteen  hours  to  earn  thirty  sous :  she 
owed  every  thing  to  me.  Every  thing  had  gone  so 
smoothly  in  the  past  that  her  falseness  was  in  some  way 
repugnant  to  my  reason.  I  could  not  induce  myself  to 
feel  jealous.  However,  I  inquired  into  the  matter;  I 
watched  her;  I  even  descended  to  setting  a  spy  upon 
her.  I  had  been  told  the  truth.  This  unhappy  girl  had 
a  lover,  and  had  had  him  for  more  than  ten  years.  He 
was  a  cavalry  officer.  He  came  to  her  house  with  every 
precaution.  Usually  he  departed  about  midnight:  but 
sometimes  he  came  to  pass  the  night,  and  in  that  case 
left  in  the  early  morning.  Being  stationed  near  Paris, 
he  obtained  leaves  to  visit  it ;  and,  during  these  leaves, 
he  remained  shut  up  in  her  house  without  going  out  at 
all.  One  evening,  my  spies  brought  me  word  that  he 
was  there.  I  hastened  to  the  house.  My  presence  did 
not  embarrass  her.  She  received  me  as  usual,  throwing 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  233 

her  arms  about  my  neck.  I  thought  that  my  spies  had  de- 
ceived me ;  and  I  was  going  to  tell  her  all,  when  I  saw 
upon  the  piano  a  buckskin  glove,  such  as  is  worn  by  sol- 
diers. Not  wishing  a  scene,  and  not  knowing  to  what 
excess  my  anger  might  carry  me,  I  took  my  departure 
without  a  word.  I  have  never  seen  her  since.  She  wrote 
to  me.  I  did  not  open  her  letters.  She  attempted  to 
force  her  way  into  my  presence,  but  in  vain :  my  serv- 
ants had  orders  that  they  dared  not  break." 

Could  this  be  the  Count  de  Commarin,  celebrated  for 
his  haughty  coldness,  for  his  reserve,  so  full  of  disdain, 
who  spoke  thus,  who  opened  his  whole  life  without  re- 
strictions, without  reserve?  And  to  whom?  To  a 
stranger. 

He  was  in  one  of  those  desperate  states,  allied  to  mad- 
ness, when  all  reflection  leaves  us,  when  we  must  have 
some  outlet  to  a  too  powerful  emotion. 

What  mattered  this  secret  to  him,  so  courageously 
carried  for  so  many  years? 

He  disburdened  himself  of  it,  like  the  miserable  man, 
who,  weighed  down  by  a  too  heavy  burden,  casts  it  to 
the  earth  without  caring  where  it  falls,  nor  how  it  tempts 
the  cupidity  of  the  passers  by. 

"  Nothing,"  continued  he, — "  no,  nothing,  can  ap- 
proach to  what  I  then  endured.  My  very  heart-strings 
were  bound  up  in  that  woman.  She  was  like  a  part  of 
myself.  In  separating  myself  from  her,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  tearing  away  a  part  of  my  own  flesh.  I  can- 
not tell  what  furious  passions  her  memory  stirred  within 
me.  I  scorned  her  and  longed  for  her  with  equal  ve- 
hemence. I  hated  her,  and  I  loved  her.  And,  to  this 
day,  I  have  retained  her  detestable  image.  Nothing 
can  make  me  forget  her.  I  have  never  consoled  myself 
for  her  loss.  And  that  is  not  all ;  terrible  doubts  about 


234  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Albert  occurred  to  me.  Was  I  really  his  father?  Can 
you  understand  what  my  punishment  was,  when  I  said 
to  myself,  '  I  have  perhaps  sacrificed  my  own  child  to 
that  of  an  utter  stranger.'  This  thought  made  me  hate 
the  youth.  To  my  great  love,  there  succeeded  an  un- 
conquerable repulsion.  How  often,  in  those  times,  I 
struggled  against  an  insane  desire  to  murder  him! 
Since  then,  I  have  learned  to  subdue  my  aversion;  but 
I  have  never  completely  mastered  it.  Albert,  monsieur, 
has  been  the  best  of  sons.  Nevertheless,  there  has  al- 
ways been  an  icy  barrier  between  us,  which  he  could 
never  explain.  Often  I  have  been  upon  the  point  of  pre- 
senting myself  before  the  tribunals,  of  avowing  all,  of 
reclaiming  my  legitimate  heir;  but  regard  for  my  rank 
has  prevented  me.  I  recoiled  before  the  scandal.  I 
feared  the  ridicule  or  disgrace  that  would  attach  itself 
to  my  name ;  and  yet  I  have  not  been  able  to  save  it  from 
infamy." 

The  voice  of  the  old  gentleman  was  silent,  after  these 
words.  With  a  desolate  movement,  he  buried  his  face 
in  both  hands.  Two  great  tears,  almost  immediately 
dry,  rolled  silently  down  his  wrinkled  cheeks. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  door  of  the  study  opened  half 
way,  and  the  head  of  the  long  clerk  appeared. 

Daburon  signed  to  him  to  enter,  and  then  addressing 
Monsieur  de  Commarin,  said,  in  a  voice  that  compassion 
made  the  more  gentle, — 

"  Monsieur,  in  the  eyes  of  heaven,  as  in  the  eyes  of  so- 
ciety, you  have  committed  a  great  sin;  and  the  results, 
you  see,  are  the  most  disastrous.  This  sin  it  is  your 
duty  to  repair  as  much  as  lies  in  your  power." 

"  Such  is  my  intention,  monsieur,  and,  shall  I  say, 
my  dearest  wish." 

"  You  doubtless  understand  me,"  continued  Daburon. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  235 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  the  old  man, — "  yes,  I  un- 
derstand you." 

"  It  will  doubtless  be  a  consolation  for  you,"  added  the 
judge,  "  to  learn  that  Noel  Gerdy  is  worthy  in  all  re- 
spects of  the  high  position  that  you  are  going  to  restore 
to  him.  You  will  certainly  acknowledge  that  his  char- 
acter is  of  the  greater  worth,  from  his  having  raised 
himself  by  his  own  exertions.  He  is  a  man  of  great  tal- 
ent, better  and  worthier  than  any  one  I  know.  You 
will  have  a  son  worthy  of  his  ancestors.  And  no  one 
of  your  family  will  regret,  monsieur,  that  the  Viscount 
Albert  is  not  a  Commarin." 

"  No,"  replied  the  count  quickly,  "  a  Commarin  would 
have  died  by  this  time ;  and  blood  washes  all  away." 

This  remark  of  the  old  gentleman  set  the  judge  of  in- 
quiry to  think  profoundly. 

"  Are  you  then  sure,"  said  he,  "  of  the  viscount's 
guilt?" 

M.  de  Commarin  gave  the  judge  a  look  of  surprise. 

"  I  only  arrived  in  Paris  yesterday  evening,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "  and  I  am  entirely  ignorant  of  all  that  has  oc- 
curred. I  only  know  that  they  would  not  proceed  on 
trifles  against  a  man  of  Albert's  rank.  If  you  have 
arrested  him,  it  is  quite  evident  that  you  have  some- 
thing more  than  suspicion  against  him, — that  you  pos- 
sess positive  proofs." 

Daburon  bit  his  lips,  and,  for  a  moment,  could  not  con- 
ceal a  feeling  of  displeasure.  He  had  neglected  his 
usual  prudence,  had  moved  too  quickly.  He  had  be- 
lieved the  count's  mind  entirely  overthrown ;  and  now  he 
had  aroused  his  defiance.  All  the  skill  in  the  world  could 
not  repair  such  an  unfortunate  mistake. 

As  the  result  of  an  examination,  from  which  much 
had  been  expected,  all  his  plans  might  be  overturned. 


236  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

A  witness  on  his  'guard  is  a  witness  no  longer  to  be 
depended  upon ;  he  trembles  for  fear  of  compromising 
himself,  measures  the  weight  of  the  questions,  and  hes- 
itates as  to  his  answers. 

On  the  other  hand,  justice,  in  the  form  of  a  magis- 
trate, is  disposed  to  doubt  every  thing,  to  imagine  every 
thing,  and  to  suspect  all  the  world. 

How  far  was  the  count  a  stranger  to  the  crime  at 
Jonchere?  Evidently,  several  days  before  it,  although 
doubting  Albert's  paternity,  he  had  made  great  efforts 
to  retain  his  son  in  his  place.  His  story  showed  that  he 
thought  his  honor  concerned  in  his  retention. 

Was  he  not  a  man  to  suppress,  by  every  means,  an 
inconvenient  witness?  Thus  reasoned  Monsieur  Da- 
buron. 

And  yet  he  could  not  clearly  see  how  the  Count  de 
Comarin's  interests  and  his  restless  uncertainty  were 
concerned  in  the  matter.  His  whole  life  opposed  it. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  began  again  more  sternly,  "  when 
were  you  informed  of  the  discovery  of  your  secret  ?  " 

"  Last  evening,  by  Albert  himself.  He  spoke  to  me  of 
this  sad  story,  and  of  a  deed  which  I  now  seek  in  vain 
to  explain,  unless — " 

The  count  stopped  short,  as  if  his  reason  had  been 
struck  by  the  improbability,  of  the  supposition  which  he 
had  formed. 

"  Unless  ? — "  inquired  the  magistrate  quickly. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  count,  without  replying  di- 
rectly, "  Albert  will  be  a  hero,  if  he  be  not  the  criminal." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  magistrate  quickly,  "  have  you,  then, 
reason  to  think  him  innocent?  " 

Daburon's  spite  was  so  plainly  visible  in  the  tone  of 
his  words  that  Monsieur  de  Commarin  could  and  ought 
to  have  seen  the  appearance  of  a  wicked  intention.  He 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  237 

started,  evidently  offended,  and  righted  himself  by  say- 
ing,— 

"  I  am  no  more  a  witness  now  to  discharge  than  I 
was  a  moment  ago  to  condemn.  I  desire  only  to  make 
justice  clear,  in  accordance  with  my  duty." 

"  Confound  it,"  said  Daburon  to  himself,  "  here  I 
have  offended  him  again !  Is  this  the  way  to  do  things, 
making  mistake  after  mistake  ?  " 

"  The  facts  are  these,"  said  the  count.  "  Yesterday, 
after  having  spoken  to  me  of  these  cursed  letters,  Al- 
bert began  to  set  a  trap  to  discover  the  truth, — for  he 
still  had  doubts,  Noel  Gerdy  not  having  obtained  the 
complete  correspondence.  An  animated  discussion  arose 
between  us.  He  declared  his  resolution  to  give  way  to 
Noel.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  was  resolved  to  compro- 
mise, cost  what  it  might.  Albert  dared  to  oppose  me. 
All  my  efforts  to  convert  him  to  my  views  were  in  vain. 
Vainly  I  tried  to  touch  those  cords  in  his  breast  which 
I  had  supposed  the  most  sensitive.  He  firmly  repeated 
his  intention  to  retire  in  spite  of  me,  declaring  himself 
satisfied,  if  I  would  consent  to  allow  him  a  modest  com- 
petence. I  again  attempted  to  shake  him,  by  showing 
him  that  his  marriage,  so  ardently  looked  forward  to  for 
two  years,  would  be  broken  off  by  this  blow.  He  re- 
plied that  he  felt  sure  of  the  constancy  of  his  fiancee; 
Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges." 

This  name  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  ears  of 
the  judge  of  inquiry.  He  fell  back  in  his  chair. 

Feeling  that  he  was  turning  crimson,  he  took,  at  a 
venture,  from  his  table  a  large  bundle  of  papers,  and,  to 
hide  his  emotion,  raised  it  to  his  face,  as  if  he  was  try- 
ing to  decipher  an  illegible  word. 

He  began  to  understand  the  difficult  duty  with  which 
he  was  charged.  He  seemed  troubled  like  a  child,  hav- 


238          /    THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ing  neither  his  usual  calmness  nor  foresight.  He  felt 
that  he  might  commit  the  most  serious  blunder.  Why 
had  he  undertaken  this  inquiry  ?  Could  he  keep  himself 
a  free  arbiter?  Did  he  think  his  will  would  be  impar- 
tial? 

Gladly  would  he  have  turned  over  to  another  the 
further  examination  of  the  count;  but  could  he?  His 
conscience  told  him  that  this  would  be  another  blunder. 
He  renewed,  then,  the  painful  examination. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  he,  "  the  sentiments  expressed  by 
the  viscount  are  very  fine,  without  doubt;  but  did  he 
not  speak  to  you  of  the  Widow  Lerouge  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  count,  who  appeared  suddenly  to 
brighten,  as  by  the  remembrance  of  some  unnoticed  cir- 
cumstances,— "  yes,  certainly." 

"  He  might  have  shown  you  that  the  testimony  of  this 
woman  would  render  a  struggle  with  M.  Gerdy  impos- 
sible." 

"  Precisely,  monsieur ;  and,  aside  from  the  question 
of  duty,  it  was  upon  that  that  he  based  his  refusal  to 
follow  my  wishes." 

"  It  will  be  necessary,  count,  for  you  to  repeat  to  me 
very  exactly  all  that  passed  between  the  viscount  and 
yourself.  Appeal,  then,  I  beseech  you,  to  your  memory, 
and  strive  to  repeat  his  words  as  nearly  as  possible." 

Monsieur  de  Commarin  obeyed  without  much  diffi- 
culty. For  a  moment,  a  salutary  reaction  had  worked 
upon  him.  His  blood,  excited  by  the  persistence  of  the 
examination,  renewed  its  accustomed  course.  His  brain 
redeemed  itself. 

The  scene  of  last  evening  was  admirably  presented 
to  his  memory,  even  to  the  most  minute  details.  The 
sound  of  Albert's  words  were  again  in  his  ears ;  he  saw 
again  his  expressive  gestures. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  239 

As  his  story  advanced,  brilliant  with  clearness  and 
precision,  Daburon's  conviction  was  confirmed. 

The  judge  turned  against  Albert  precisely  what  had 
the  day  before  won  the  count's  admiration. 

"  What  wonderful  acting !  "  thought  he.  "  Tabaret 
is  decidedly  possessed  of  second  sight.  To  his  incon- 
ceivable boldness,  this  young  man  joins  an  infernal  clev- 
erness. The  genius  of  crime  itself  inspires  him.  It  is 
a  miracle  that  we  have  been  able  to  unmask  him.  How 
well  every  thing  was  foreseen  and  arranged !  How 
marvellously  this  scene  with  his  father  was  brought 
about,  in  order  to  bring  doubt  in  case  of  discovery! 
There  is  not  a  sentence  w7hich  lacks  a  purpose,  which 
does  not  tend  to  ward  off  suspicion.  What  refinement 
of  execution !  What  over-anxious  care  for  details ! 
Nothing  failed  him,  not  even  the  great  devotion  of  his 
•fiancee.  Had  he  really  informed  Claire?  Probably  I 
might  be  sure  of  this ;  but  I  should  have  to  return  to  her, 
to  again  speak  to  her.  Poor  child !  to  love  such  a  man ! 
But  he  will  now  appear  before  her  in  his  true  colors. 
This  discussion,  too,  with  the  count  was  his  plank  of 
safety.  It  committed  him  to  nothing,  and  gained  time. 
He  would  of  course  raise  objections,  since  they  would 
only  end  by  binding  himself  the  more  firmly  in  his  fa- 
ther's heart.  He  could  thus  make  a  merit  of  his  compli- 
ance, and  would  ask  a  reward  for  his  helplessness.  And, 
when  Noel  should  return  to  the  charge,  he  would  find 
against  him  the  count,  who  would  boldly  deny  every 
thing,  politely  refuse  him ;  and  he  would,  of  course,  be 
driven  out  as  an  impostor  and  forger." 

It  was  a  strange  coincidence,  but  yet  easily  explained, 
that  M.  de  Commarin,  while  telling  his  story,  arrived 
precisely  at  the  same  ideas  with  the  judge,  at  conclu- 
sions almost  identical. 


240  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

In  fact,  why  this  persistence  on  the  subject  of  Clau- 
dine?  He  remembered  plainly,  that,  in  his  anger,  he 
had  said  to  his  son,  "  Mankind  is  not  in  the  habit  of  do- 
ing such  fine  actions  for  its  own  satisfaction."  This 
great  disinterestedness  now  explained  itself. 

"  I  thank  you,  monsieur,"  said  Daburon :  "  I  will 
say  nothing  positive;  but  Justice  has  weighty  reasons 
to  believe  that,  in  the  scene  which  you  have  just  re- 
ported to  me,  the  Viscount  Albert  played  a  part  pre- 
viously arranged." 

"  And  well  arranged,"  murmured  the  count ;  "  for  he 
deceived  me,  me !  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Noel,  who  car- 
ried a  shagreen  portfolio,  ornamented  with  black  fig- 
ures, under  his  arm. 

The  advocate  bowed  to  the  old  gentleman,  who  in  his 
turn  arose  and  retired  politely  to  the  end  of  the  room. 
.  "  Monsieur,"  said  Noel,  in  an  undertone  to  the  judge, 
"  you  will  find  all  the  letters  in  this  portfolio.  I  must 
ask  permission  to  leave  you  at  once,  as  Madame  Gerdy's 
condition  grows  hourly  more  alarming." 

Noel  had  raised  his  voice  a  little,  in  pronouncing 
these  last  words ;  and  the  count  heard  them.  He  started, 
and  needed  great  effort  to  restrain  the  question  which 
leaped  from  his  heart  into  his  mouth. 

"  You  must  give  me  a  moment,  my  dear  fellow,"  said 
the  judge. 

Daburon  then  quitted  his  chair,  and,  taking  the  ad- 
vocate by  the  hand,  led  him  to  the  count. 

"  Monsieur  de  Commarin,"  said  he,  "  I  have  the  honor 
of  presenting  to  you  M.  Noel  Gerdy." 

M.  de  Commarin  was  probably  expecting  some  scene 
of  this  kind  ;  for  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved ;  he  re- 
mained perfectly  calm.  Noel,  on  his  side,  was  like  a 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  241 

man  who  had  received  a  blow  on  the  head ;  he  staggered, 
and  was  obliged  to  seek  support  from  the  back  of  a 
chair. 

Then  these  two,  father  and  son,  stood  face  tc  face, 
apparently  deep  in  thought,  in  reality  examining  one  an- 
other with  dark  distrust,  each  striving  to  gather  some- 
tiling  of  the  other's  thought. 

Daburon  had  hoped  much  from  this  coup  de  theatre, 
which  he  had  planned  since  the  count's  arrival.  He  had 
expected  to  bring  about,  by  this  abrupt  presentation,  an 
intensely  pathetic  scene,  which  would  not  give  his  cli- 
ents time  for  reflection.  The  count  would  open  his 
arms :  Noel  would  throw  himself  into  them ;  and  this 
reconciliation  would  only  await  the  sanction  of  the  tri- 
bunals, to  be  complete. 

The  coldness  of  one,  the  embarrassment  of  the  other, 
disconcerted  his  plans.  He  believed  a  more  pressing 
intervention  necessary. 

"  Count,"  said  he  reproachfully,  "  remember  that 
Monsieur  Gerdy  is  your  legitimate  son." 

M.  de  Commarin  made  no  reply;  to  judge  from  his 
lack  of  emotion,  he  had  not  heard. 

Then  Noel,  summoning  all  his  courage,  ventured  to 
speak  first, — 

"  Monsieur,"  he  stammered,  "  I  only  wish — " 

"  You  may  call  me  your  father,"  interrupted  the  old 
man,  in  a  tone  which  certainly  had  nothing  of  emotion 
or  tenderness  in  it.  Then  addressing  the  judge, — 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  further  use  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Only  to  hear  your  deposition  read,"  replied  Da- 
buron, "  and  to  sign  it,  if  you  find  it  taken  down  cor- 
rectly. You  may  proceed,  Constant,"  he  added. 

The  long  clerk  made  a  half  turn  in  his  chair,  and 
commenced.  He  had  a  peculiar  way  of  sputtering  over 


242  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

what  he  had  scrawled.  He  read  very  quickly,  all  at 
one  dash,  without  paying  attention  to  periods,  commas, 
questions,  or  replies,  as  long  as  his  breath  lasted.  When 
he  could  go  on  no  longer,  he  took  a  breath,  and  went 
on  as  before.  Unconsciously,  he  reminded  you  of  those 
divers,  who  now  and  then  raise  their  heads  above  water, 
obtain  a  supply  of  air,  and  disappear  again.  Noel  was 
the  only  one  to  listen  attentively  to  the  reading,  which 
was  to  unpractised  ears  unintelligible.  It  apprised  him 
of  things  which  it  was  important  for  him  to  know.  At 
last  Constant  pronounced  the  formula,  en  foi  de  quoi, 
etc.,  which  end  all  official  reports  in  France. 

He  handed  the  pen  to  the  count,  who  signed  without 
hesitation.  The  old  gentleman  then  turned  towards 
Noel. 

"  I  am  not  very  strong,"  he  said ;  "  you  must,  there- 
fore, my  son,"  (this  word  was  emphasized)  "  help  your 
father  to  his  carriage." 

The  young  advocate  advanced  eagerly.  His  face 
brightened,  while  he  passed  the  count's  arm  through 
his  own. 

When  they  were  gone,  Daburon  could  not  resist  an 
impulse  of  curiosity.  He  hastened  to  the  door,  which 
he  opened;  and,  keeping  his  body  in  the  background, 
that  he  might  not  himself  be  seen,  he  extended  his  head, 
examining  the  gallery  with  a  glance. 

The  count  and  Noel  had  not  yet  reached  the  end. 
They  were  going  slowly.  The  count  seemed  to  drag 
heavily  and  painfully  along;  the  advocate  took  short 
steps,  bending  lightly  on  the  side  towards  the  count; 
and  all  his  movements  w.ere  marked  with  the  greatest 
solicitude.  The  judge  retained  his  position  until  they 
were  lost  to  view  by  a  turn  in  the  gallery.  Then  he  went 
back  to  his  place,  heaving  a  deep  sigh. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  243 

"  At  least,"  said  he,  "  I  have  helped  to  make  one  happy 
person.  The  day  will  not  be  utterly  wasted." 

But  he  had  no  time  to  give  way  to  such  thoughts,  the 
hours  flew  by  so  quickly.  He  had  to  examine  Albert  as 
soon  as  possible ;  and  he  had  still  to  receive  the  deposi- 
tion of  many  of  the  servants  of  the  Count  de  Com- 
marin's  house,  and  to  receive  the  report  of  the  com- 
missary of  police  charged  with  the  arrest. 

The  above-named  domestics,  who  had  waited  their 
turn  a  long  while,  were  without  delay  brought  in,  one 
after  the  other. 

They  had  but  little  information  to  give;  but  there 
were  as  many  new  charges  as  there  were  witnesses.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  all  believed  their  master  guilty. 

Albert's  conduct  since  the  beginning  of  this  fatal 
week,  his  least  words,  his  most  insignificant  movements, 
were  reported,  commented  upon,  and  explained. 

The  man  who  lives  in  the  midst  of  thirty  servants  is 
like  an  insect  in  a  glass  box  under  the  magnifying  glass 
of  a  naturalist.  No  one  of  his  acts  escape  attention; 
scarcely  can  he  have  a  secret ;  and,  if  they  cannot  divine 
what  it  is,  they  at  least  know  he  has  one.  From  morn- 
ing until  night,  he  is  the  point  of  observation  for  thirty 
pairs  of  eyes,  interested  in  studying  the  slightest  change 
in  his  face. 

The  judge  had,  therefore,  an  abundance  of  frivolous 
details ;  which  at  the  time  they  occurred  meant  noth- 
ing, but  the  most  trifling  of  which  seemed  all  at  once  to 
the  count  to  become  a  matter  of  life  and  death. 

By  combining  these  depositions,  reconciling  them, 
and  putting  them  in  order,  Daburon  could  follow  his 
prisoner  hour  by  hour  to  his  going  out  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing. 

On  that  Sunday  morning,  the  viscount  had  given  or- 


244  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ders  that  all  visitors  should  be  informed  that  he  had 
gone  into  the  country.  From  that  moment,  the  whole 
household  perceived  that  something  had  gone  wrong, 
and  annoyed  him. 

He  did  not  leave  his  study  on  that  day,  but  had  had 
his  dinner  brought  to  him.  He  ate  very  little, — only 
some  soup,  and  a  bit  of  fish  with  white  wines.  While 
eating,  he  had  said  to  Monsieur  Contois,  the  butler, 
"  Remind  the  cook  to  spice  this  sauce  a  little  more,  in 
future,"  and  then  added  in  a  low  tone,  "  Ah  ?  to  what 
purpose?"  In  the  evening  he  dismissed  the  servants 
from  all  duties,  saying,  "  Go,  and  amuse  yourselves." 
He  expressly  warned  them  not  to  enter  his  room  until 
he  rang. 

On  Monday,  he  did  not  rise  until  noon,  although 
usually  an  early  riser.  He  complained  of  a  violent  head- 
ache, and  of  weakness.  He  took,  however,  a  cup  of  tea. 
He  ordered  out  his  coupe  but  almost  immediately  coun- 
termanded the  order.  His  valet  de  chainbre,  Lubin, 
heard  him  say,  "  It  is  too  late  to  hesitate ;  "  and  a  few 
moments  after,  "  I  must  finish  it."  Shortly  afterwards, 
he  began  writing. 

Lubin  had  been  instructed  to  carry  a  letter  to  Made- 
moiselle Claire  d'Arlanges,  with  orders  to  deliver  it  to 
herself  or  to  Mademoiselle  Smith,  the  governess  only. 
A  second  letter,  with  two  checks  of  a  thousand  francs, 
were  intrusted  to  Joseph,  to  be  carried  to  the  club.  Jo- 
seph, no  longer  remembered  the  person  to  whom  it 
was  addressed :  but  it  was  not  a  titled  name. 

That  evening,  Albert  took  only  a  little  soup,  and  re- 
mained shut  up  in  his  room.  He  was  up  early  on  Tues- 
day. He  walked  up  and  down  the  house,  like  a  soul  in 
pain,  or  like  one  who  awaited  with  impatience  something 
which  had  not  arrived.  Upon  his  going  into  the  gar- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  245 

den,  the  gardener  asked  his  advice  concerning  a  lawn. 
He  replied,  "  You  may  consult  the  count  upon  his  re- 
turn." 

He  breakfasted  precisely  as  on  the  day  before.  About 
one  o'clock,  he  went  down  to  the  stables,  and,  with  an 
air  of  sadness,  he  caressed  his  favorite  mare,  Norma. 
Stroking  her  neck,  he  said,  "  Poor  creature !  poor  old 
girl!" 

At  three  o'clock,  a  messenger  arrived  with  a  letter. 
The  viscount  took  it,  and  opened  it  hastily.  He  was 
then  opposite  the  flower  garden.  Two  footmen  heard 
him  distinctly  say,  "  She  cannot  resist."  He  entered  the 
house,  and  burned  the  letter  in  the  large  fire-place  in 
the  entry. 

As  he  was  sitting  down  to  dinner,  at  six  o'clock,  two 
of  his  friends,  Monsieur  de  Courtivois  and  the  Marquis 
of  Chouze,  insisted  upon  seeing  him,  in  spite  of  all  or- 
ders. They  would  not  be  refused.  These  gentlemen 
were  anxious  to  carry  him  away  to  a  party  of  pleasure ; 
but  he  refused,  saying  that  he  had  a  very  important  ap- 
pointment. 

At  dinner,  he  ate  a  little  more  than  on  the  former 
days.  He  asked  the  butler  also  for  a  bottle  of  Chateau 
Lafitte,  which  he  drank  entirely.  While  taking  his  cof- 
fee, he  smoked  a  cigar  in  the  dining-room,  contrary  to 
the  rules  of  the  house.  At  half-past  seven,  according 
to  Joseph  and  the  two  footmen,  or  at  eight  according  to 
the  porter  and  Lubin,  the  viscount  went  out  on  foot,  tak- 
ing with  him  an  umbrella.  He  returned  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  dismissed  at  once  his  valet  de  cham- 
bre,  whose  duty  it  was  to  remain  up  for  him. 

Wednesday,  on  entering  the  viscount's  room,  the 
valet  de  chambre  was  struck  with  the  condition  in  which 
he  found  his  master's  clothing.  It  was  wet,  and  stained 


246  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

with  mud ;  the  pants  were  torn.  He  hazarded  a  remark 
upon  them.  Albert  replied,  in  a  furious  manner, 
"  Throw  the  old  things  in  a  corner,  ready  to  be  given 
away." 

He  appeared  to  be  much  better  that  day.  He  break- 
fasted with  a  good  appetite;  and  the  butler  perceived 
that  he  was  in  excellent  spirits.  He  passed  the  after- 
noon in  the  library,  and  burned  a  pile  of  papers. 

Thursday,  he  seemed  again  to  suffer  much.  He 
seemed  to  regret  not  being  able  to  see  the  count.  That 
evening,  after  his  interview  with  his  father,  he  went 
to  his  room  in  a  pitiable  condition.  Lubin  wanted  to  go 
for  the  doctor:  he  would  not  allow  it,  saying,  at  the 
same  time,  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  him. 

Such  was  the  substance  of  twenty  large  pages,  which 
the  long  clerk  had  written  without  once  turning  his  head 
to  look  at  the  witnesses  who  passed  by  in  their  fine  liv- 
ery. 

This  testimony  Daburon  managed  to  obtain  inside  of 
two  hours.  Being  well  aware  of  the  importance  of  their 
testimony,  all  these  servants  were  very  voluble.  The 
difficulty  was,  to  stop  them  when  they  were  once  started. 
And  yet,  from  all  they  said,  it  appeared  that  Albert  was 
a  very  good  master, — easily  served,  kind  and  polite  to 
his  servants.  Wonderful  to  relate!  there  were  found 
only  three  among  them  all  who  did  not  appear  perfectly 
delighted  at  the  misfortune  which  had  befallen  the  fam- 
ily. Two  were  seriously  distressed.  Lubin,  although 
he  had  been  an  object  of  especial  kindness,  was  not  one 
of  these  last. 

The  turn  of  the  commissary  of  police  had  now  come. 
In  a  few  words,  he  gave  an  account  of  the  arrest,  al- 
ready described  by  Pere  Tabaret.  He  did  not  forget  to 
mark  the  one  word  "  Lost,"  which  had  escaped  Albert ; 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  247 

to  his  mind,  it  was  a  confession.  He  then  delivered  all 
the  articles  seized  in  the  Viscount  de  Commarin's  room. 

The  judge  of  inquiry  examined  carefully  all  these 
articles,  and  compared  them  closely  with  the  scraps  of 
evidence  gathered  at  Jonchere.  He  appeared  now, 
more  than  ever,  satisfied  with  his  course. 

He  personally  placed  all  the  material  proofs  upon  the 
table,  and,  to  hide  them,  threw  over  them  three  or  four 
of  those  large  sheets  of  paper,  which  are  used  by  shirt- 
makers  for  covers. 

The  day  was  far  advanced;  and  Daburon  had  no 
more  than  sufficient  time  to  examine  the  prisoner  before 
night.  Why  should  he  hesitate  now?  He  had  in  his 
hands  more  proofs  than  would  suffice  to  summon  ten 
men  before  the  court  of  assize,  and  send  them  from 
thence  to  Roquette.  He  was  fighting  with  arms  so  im- 
measurably superior,  that,  unless  through  some  error 
of  his  own,  Albert  would  scarcely  dream  of  defending 
himself ;  and  yet,  at  this  moment  of  so  much  solemnity 
to  himself,  he  seemed  to  falter.  Was  his  will  enfeebled  ? 
Would  he  abandon  his  resolution  ? 

He  now,  for  the  first  time,  remembered  that  he  had 
tasted  nothing  since  morning ;  and  he  sent  hastily  for  a 
bottle  of  wine,  and  some  biscuits.  It  was  not  strength, 
however,  that  the  judge  needed ;  it  was  courage.  All 
the  time  that  he  was  drinking,  his  thoughts  would  keep 
repeating  this  strange  sentence,  "  I  am  going  to  appear 
before  the  Viscount  de  Commarin."  At  any  other  mo- 
ment, he  would  have  laughed  at  this  flight  of  his 
thoughts;  but,  at  this  moment,  he  seemed  to  see  the 
will  of  Providence. 

"  So  be  it,"  said  he ;  "  this  is  my  punishment." 

And  immediately  he  gave  the  necessary  orders  for  the 
Viscount  Albert  to  be  brought  before  him. 


248  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THERE  was  little  difference  in  Albert's  state  of  mind 
at  home  and  in  the  seclusion  of  the  prison. 

Snatched  away  from  those  painful  dreams  by  the  rude 
voice  of  the  commissary,  saying,  "  In  the  name  of  the 
law  I  arrest  you,"  his  spirit,  completely  overcome,  was 
a  long  time  in  recovering  its  equilibrium.  Every  thing 
that  followed  his  arrest  appeared  to  float  indistinctly  in 
a  thick  mist,  like  the  fairy  scenes  at  the  theatre  behind 
a  quadruple  gauze  curtain. 

To  their  questions  he  replied,  without  hearing  him- 
self speak.  Two  agents  took  his  arms,  and  helped  him 
down  the  stairs  from  the  house.  He  could  not  have 
walked  down  alone.  His  limbs,  which  bent  beneath 
him,  could  not  have  borne  him.  One  thing  alone 
he  heard,  a  servant  saying  that  the  count  had  been 
struck  with  apoplexy;  but  even  that  he  soon  for- 
got. 

They  raised  him  into  the  coach,  which  stood  in  the 
court,  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  rather  ashamed  of  find- 
ing itself  in  such  a  place ;  and  they  placed  him  upon  the 
back  seat.  Two  agents  took  their  seats  in  front  of  him ; 
while  a  third  mounted  the  box  by  the  side  of  the  driver. 
During  the  drive,  he  did  not  at  all  realize  his  situation. 
He  lay  in  the  dirty,  greasy  carriage  motionless.  His 
body,  which  followed  every  jolt  of  the  carriage,  wofully 
in  need  of  springs,  rolled  from  one  side  to  the  other; 
and  his  head  fell  to  and  fro  on  his  shoulders,  as  if  the 
muscles  of  his  neck  w.ere  broken.  He  thought  of  the 
Widow  Lerouge.  He  recalled  her  as  she  was  when  he 
went  with  his  father  to  Jonchere.  It  was  in  the  spring  ; 
and  the  May-flowers  sweetened  the  way.  The  old  wo- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  249 

man,  in  a  white  head-dress,  stood  at  her  garden  gate: 
she  spoke  with  a  suppliant  air.  The  count  listened  to 
her  with  a  stern  glance ;  then,  taking  some  money  from 
his  pocket-book,  he  gave  it  to  her. 

On  reaching  the  jail,  they  got  out  of  the  carriage  as 
they  had  entered  it. 

During  the  formalities  of  the  jail-book,  in  the  dark, 
offensive  record  office,  replying  mechanically  to  every 
thing,  he  gave  himself  up  with  delight  to  recollections 
of  Claire.  He  went  back  to  the  time  of  their  first  love, 
when  he  doubted  whether  he  should  ever  have  the  hap- 
piness of  being  loved  by  her  in  return,  and  to  Madame 
Goello's  house,  where  they  had  first  exchanged  their 
vows. 

This  old  lady  had  a  certain  celebrated  lover's  retreat, 
upon  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  of  the  most  peculiar  de- 
scription. Upon  all  the  furniture,  and  even  upon  the 
mantel,  were  placed  a  dozen  or  fifteen  stuffed  dogs,  of 
various  kinds,  which  together  or  successively  had  helped 
to  cheer  the  old  maid's  lonely  hours.  She  loved  to  re- 
late the  stories  of  these  pets,  whose  affections  had  never 
failed  her.  They  were,  too,  such  grotesque,  horrible 
things.  One  especially,  outrageously  stuffed,  seemed 
ready  to  burst.  How  many  times  he  had  laughed  at  it 
with  Claire  until  the  tears  came ! 

They  began  searching  him  then.  This  crowning  hu- 
miliation, when  rough  hands  passed  all  over  his  body, 
brought  him  somewhat  to  himself,  and  roused  his  an- 
ger. But  it  was  soon  finished;  and  they  took  him 
through  the  dark  corridors,  whose  pavements  were  filthy 
and  slippery.  They  opened  a  door,  and  pushed  him 
into  a  sort  of  little  cell.  He  heard  behind  him  the  sound 
of  clashing  bolts,  and  creaking  locks. 

He  was  a  prisoner,  and,  in  accordance  with  special 


250  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

orders,  in  solitary  confinement.  Immediately  he  felt  a 
marked  sensation  of  comfort.  He  was  alone. 

No  more  stifled  whispers,  harsh  voices,  dreadful  ques- 
tions, filled  his  ears.  A  profound  silence,  giving  the 
idea  of  nothingness,  formed  about  him.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  never  before  escaped  from  society ;  and 
he  rejoiced  at  it.  He  would  have  felt  relieved,  had  this 
even  been  a  tomb.  His  body,  as  well  as  his  mind,  was 
weighed  down  with  weariness.  He  was  going  to  sit 
down,  when  he  perceived  a  mean  couch,  at  the  right, 
in  front  of  the  grated  window,  which  let  in  the  little 
light  there  was.  This  bed  gave  him  as  much  pleasure  as 
a  plank  would  a  drowning  man.  He  threw  himself  upon 
it,  and  stretched  himself  with  delight ;  but  he  felt  chilled. 
He  found  a  coarse  woolen  coverlid,  and,  wrapping  it 
about  him,  was  soon  sound  asleep. 

In  the  corridor,  two  agents  of  the  safety  police,  one 
still  young,  the  other  already  gray,  applied  alternately 
their  eyes  and  ears  to  the  peep-hole  in  the  door. 

"  What  a  fellow  he  is !  "  murmured  the  younger  of- 
ficer. "  If  a  man  has  no  more  nerve  than  that,  he  ought 
to  be  pretty  honest.  He  will  be  wild  the  morning  of  his 
execution,  eh,  Balan  ?  " 

"  That  depends," — replied  the  other.  "  We  must  wait 
and  see.  Lecoq  told  me  that  he  was  a  terrible  rascal." 

"  Ah !  see  how  the  fellow  arranges  his  bed,  and  lies 
down.  Can  he  be  going  to  sleep?  That's  good!  It's 
the  first  time  I  ever  saw  such  a  thing." 

"  It's  because,  comrade,  that  you  have  only  had  deal- 
ings with  the  smaller  rogues.  All  great  rascals — and  I 
have  had  to  do  with  more  than  one — are  of  this  sort.  At 
the  moment  of  arrest,  good-night  every  one ;  their  heart 
fails  them :  but  they  recover  themselves  next  day." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  251 

"  Upon  my  word,  if  he  hasn't  gone  to  sleep !  What 
a  joke!" 

"  I  tell  you,  my  friend,"  added  the  old  man,  point- 
edly, "  that  nothing  is  more  natural.  I  am  sure  that, 
since  the  blow  was  struck,  this  young  fellow  has  hardly 
lived:  his  body  has  been  all  on  fire.  Now  he  knows 
that  his  secret  is  out;  and  that  quiets  him." 

"  Ha,  ha !  you  are  joking :  you  say  that  that  quiets 
him?" 

"  Certainly.  There  is  no  greater  punishment,  remem- 
ber, than  anxiety ;  any  thing  is  preferable.  If  you  have 
only  got  ten  thousand  livrcs  income,  I  will  show  you  a 
way  to  prove  this.  Go  to  Hamburg  and  risk  your  entire 
fortune  on  one  chance  at  rouge  et  noir.  Tell  me,  after- 
wards, what  your  feelings  were  while  the  ball  was  roll- 
ing. It  is,  observe,  as  though  they  were  tearing  your 
brain  with  pincers,  as  if  they  were  pouring  molten  lead 
into  your  bones,  instead  of  marrow.  This  dread  of  de- 
tection is  so  strong,  that,  when  every  thing  is  lost,  they 
are  content ;  they  feel  relieved ;  they  breathe  again ;  they 
say  to  themselves,  '  Ah,  it  is  finished  at  last.'  They  are 
ruined,  demolished,  overthrown ;  but  it  is  ended." 

'  Truly,  Balan,  one  would  think  that  you  yourself 
had  had  just  such  an  experience." 

"  Alas !  "  sighed  the  officer,  "  it  is  to  my  love  for  the 
queen  of  spades,  my  unhappy  love,  that  you  owe  the 
honor  of  looking  through  this  peep-hole  in  my  company. 
But  this  fellow  has  two  hours  for  his  nap;  do  not  lose 
sight  of  him:  I  am  going  to  smoke  a  cigarette  in  the 
court." 

Albert  slept  four  hours.  On  awaking,  his  head 
seemed  clearer  than  it  had  been  any  time  since  his  in- 
terview with  Noel.  It  was  a  terrible  moment  for  him, 


652  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

when,  for  the  first  time,  he  looked  his  situation  calmly 
in  the  face. 

"  By  this  time,"  said  he,  "  he  has  taken  measures  to 
prevent  his  being  ousted." 

He  longed  to  see  some  one, — to  speak,  to  have 
questions  asked,  to  explain.  He  felt  a  desire  to  cry 
out. 

"  But  what  good  would  it  do,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"even  if  they  came?" 

He  looked  for  his  watch,  to  see  what  time  it  was,  and 
found  that  they  had  taken  it  away.  This  moved  him 
deeply :  they  were  treating  him  like  the  most  abandoned 
of  villains.  He  felt  in  his  pockets :  they  had  all  been 
carefully  emptied.  He  thought  now  of  his  appearance ; 
and,  throwing  himself  upon  the  couch,  he  repaired  as 
much  as  possible  the  disorder  of  his  toilet.  He  put  his 
clothes  in  order,  and  dusted  them ;  he  straightened  his 
collar,  and  re-tied  his  cravat.  Turning,  then,  a  little 
water  on  his  handkerchief,  he  passed  it  over  his  face, 
rubbing  his  eyes,  the  lids  of  which  were  smarting.  Then 
he  endeavored  to  smooth  his  beard  and  hair.  He  had  no 
idea  that  four  lynx  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  all  the 
time. 

"  Good !  "  murmured  the  young  officer :  "  see  how  our 
cock  raises  his  crest  and  smooths  his  feathers !  " 

"  I  tell  you,"  put  in  Balan,  "  he  is  simply  benumbed. 
Hush !  he  is  speaking,  I  believe." 

But  they  neither  surprised  one  of  those  disordered 
gestures  nor  one  of  those  incoherent  speeches,  which 
almost  always  escape  from  the  feeble  when  excited  by 
fears,  or  from  the  independent  who  believe  their  secrets 
secure.  One  word  alone,  "  honor,"  reached  the  ears  of 
the  two  spies. 

"  These  rascals  of  rank,"  grumbled  Balan,  "  always 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  253 

have  this  word  in  their  mouths.  That  which  they  most 
fear  is  the  opinion  of  some  dozen  friends,  and  several 
thousand  strangers,  who  read  the  '  Journal  des  Tribu- 
naux.'  They  care  nothing  about  their  own  heads." 

When  the  gendarmes  came  to  conduct  Albert  to  the 
examination,  they  found  him  seated  on  the  side  of  his 
bed,  his  feet  pressed  against  the  iron  bar,  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  and  his  head  buried  in  his  hands.  He  rose, 
as  they  entered,  and  took  a  few  steps  towards  them ; 
but  his  throat  was  so  dry  that  he  was  scarcely  able  to 
speak.  He  asked  for  a  few  moments'  rest;  and,  turn- 
ing towards  the  little  table,  he  filled  and  drank  two  large 
glasses  of  water  in  succession. 

"  I  am  ready,"  he  then  said. 

And,  with  a  firm  step,  he  followed  the  gendarmes 
along  the  passage  which  led  to  the  court. 

Daburon  was  now  in  anguish.  He  walked  furiously 
up  and  down  his  office,  awaiting  his  prisoner.  Again, 
and  for  the  twentieth  time  since  morning,  he  regretted 
his  having  engaged  in  the  business. 

"  Curse  on  this  absurd  point  of  honor,  which  I  have 
obeyed,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  have  attempted  to  reassure 
myself  by  the  aid  of  sophisms.  I  have  done  wrong  in 
not  withdrawing.  Nothing  in  the  world  can  change  my 
feelings  against  the  young  man.  I  hate  him.  I  am  his 
judge;  and  it  is  no  less  true,  that  I  have  longed 
to  assassinate  him.  I  once  aimed  at  him  with  my  re- 
volver. Why  did  I  not  pull  the  trigger?  Do  I  know 
why  ?  What  power  held  my  finger,  when  an  almost  in- 
sensible pressure  would  have  sufficed  to  strike  the  blow  ? 
I  cannot  say.  Why  is  not  he  the  judge,  and  I  the  assas- 
sin? If  the  intention  was  as  punishable  as  the  deed,  my 
neck  would  suffer.  And  is  it  under  such  conditions  that 
I  dare  examine  him  ?  " 


254  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Passing  before  the  door,  he  heard  the  heavy  step  of 
the  gendarmes  in  the  gallery. 

"  It  is  he,"  he  said  aloud ;  and  then  hastily  took  a  seat 
behind  the  table,  bending  into  the  shade  of  the  portfolio, 
as  though  striving  to  hide  himself.  If  the  long  clerk 
had  had  eyes,  he  would  have  noticed  the  singular  spec- 
tacle of  a  judge,  more  anxious  than  the  prisoner.  But 
he  was1  blind  to  it ;  and,  at  this  moment,  he  saw  only  an 
error  of  fifteen  centimes,  which  had  slipped  into  his  ac- 
counts, and  which  he  was  unable  to  rectify. 

Albert  entered  the  judge's  office  erect.  His  features 
bore  traces  of  great  fatigue  and  of  long  wakefulness. 
He  was  very  pale  ;  but  his  eyes  were  clear  and  sparkling. 

The  usual  questions  which  open  such  examinations 
gave  Daburon  time  to  recover  himself.  Fortunately  he 
had  found  time  in  the  morning  to  prepare  a  plan,  which 
he  had  now  simply  to  follow. 

"  You  are  not  ignorant,  monsieur,"  he  commenced 
in  a  tone  of  perfect  politeness,  "  that  you  have  no  right 
to  the  name  you  bear  ?  " 

"  I  know,  monsieur,"  replied  Albert,  "  that  I  am  the 
natural  son  of  Monsieur  de  Commarin.  I  know  further 
that  my  father  would  be  unable  to  recognize  me,  if  he 
wished ;  since  I  was  born  during  his  marriage." 

"  What  were  your  feelings  upon  learning  this  ?  " 

"  I  should  speak  falsely,  monsieur,  if  I  said  I  did  not 
feel  very  bitterly.  When  one  is  in  the  high  position  I 
occupied,  the  fall  is  terrible.  However,  I  have  never  for 
a  moment  thought  of  contesting  Noel  Gerdy's  rights.  I 
have  always  purposed,  and  still  purpose,  to  yield.  I 
have  so  informed  M.  de  Commarin." 

Daburon  listened  to  this  reply;  and  it  only  strength- 
ened his  suspicions.  Did  it  not  enter  into  the  line  of  de- 
fence which  the  prisoner  had  marked  out  for  himself? 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  255 

It  was  his  duty  now  to  seek  some  way  of  breaking  up 
this  defence,  in  which  the  prisoner  meant  to  shut  him- 
self up  as  in  a  shell. 

"  You  could  only  oppose,''  continued  the  judge,  "  a 
plea  of  non  recevoir  to  Monsieur  Gerdy.  You  had, 
indeed,  on  your  side,  the  count,  and  your  mother ;  but 
Gerdy  had,  on  his  side,  testimony  which  it  would  have 
been  necessary  to  suppress, — that  of  the  Widow  Le- 
rouge." 

"  I  have  never  denied  it,  monsieur." 

"  Now/'  continued  the  judge,  seeking  to  hide  the  look 
which  he  fastened  upon  Albert,  "  Justice  supposes  that, 
to  do  away  with  the  only  existing  proofs,  you  have  as- 
sassinated the  Widow  Lerouge !  " 

This  terrible  accusation,  terribly  emphasized,  caused 
no  change  in  Albert's  features.  He  kept  the  same  firm 
bearing,  without  braggadocio.  Not  a  wrinkle  appeared 
on  his  face. 

"  Before  God,"  he  answered,  "  and  by  all  that  is  most 
sacred  on  earth,  I  swear  to  you,  monsieur,  that  I  am 
innocent !  I  have  been  to  this  moment  a  close  prisoner, 
without  communication  with  the  outer  world,  reduced 
consequently  to  the  most  absolute  helplessness.  It  is 
through  your  probity  that  I  hope  to  demonstrate  my  in- 
nocence." 

"  What  an  actor !  "  thought  the  judge.  "  Can  crime 
give  such  force  ?  " 

He  ran  over  the  papers,  reading  certain  passages  of 
the  preceding  depositions,  turning  down  the  corners  of 
certain  pages  which  contained  important  information5. 
Then  suddenly  he  continued, — 

"  When  you  were  arrested,  you  cried  out, '  I  am  lost ; ' 
what  did  you  mean  by  that?  " 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Albert,  "  I  remember  having  ut- 


256  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

tered  those  words.  When  I  knew  of  what  crime  they 
accused  me,  I  w.as  overwhelmed  with  consternation. 
My  spirit  was,  as  it  were,  illuminated  by  a  glimpse  of 
futurity.  In  less  than  a  moment,  I  perceived  all  the  hor- 
rors of  my  situation.  I  saw  the  weight  of  the  accusa- 
tion, its  probability,  and  the  difficulties  I  should  have 
in  defending  myself.  A  voice  cried  out  to  me,  '  Who, 
then,  is  most  interested  in  Claudine's  death  ?  '  And  the 
knowledge  of  my  imminent  peril  forced  from  me  the 
exclamation  you  speak  of." 

His  explanation  w.as  more  than  plausible,  was  pos- 
sible, and  even  probable.  It  had  the  advantage,  too,  of 
anticipating  the  axiom, — 

Search  out  the  one  whom  the  crime  will  benefit ! 
Tabaret  had  spoken  truly,  when  he  said  that  they  had 
not  taken  an  unskilful  prisoner. 

Daburon  admired  Albert's  presence  of  mind,  and  the 
resources  of  his  perverse  imagination. 

"  You  do,  indeed,"  continued  the  judge,  "  appear  to 
have  had  the  most  serious  interest  in  this  death.  You 
see  we  are  very  sure  that  robbery  was  not  the  object 
of  the  crime.  The  things  thrown  into  the  Seine  have 
been  recovered.  We  know,  also,  that  all  the  papers  were 
burnt.  Could  they  compromise  any  one  but  yourself? 
If  you  know  of  any  one,  speak." 

"What  can  I  answer,  monsieur?     Nothing." 

"  Have  you  gone  often  to  this  woman's  house  ?  " 

"  Three  or  four  times,  with  my  father." 

"  One  of  your  coachmen  pretends  to  have  driven  you 
there  at  least  ten  times." 

''  The  man  is  mistaken.  But  what  matters  the  num- 
ber of  visits  ?  " 

"  Do  you  recollect  the  arrangement  of  the  rooms  ? 
Can  you  describe  them  ?  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  257 

"  Perfectly,  monsieur :  there  were  two.  Claudine 
slept  in  the  back  room." 

"It  is  understood  that  you  were  not  unknown  to  the 
Widow  Lerouge.  If  you  had  knocked  some  evening 
at  her  door,  do  you  think  she  would  have  opened  it  for 


you 


"  Certainly,  monsieur,  and  eagerly." 

"  You  have  been  unwell  these  last  few  days  ?  " 

"  Very  unwell ;  yes,  monsieur,  my  body  bent  under 
the  weight  of  a  burden  too  great  for  my  strength.  I 
have  not,  however,  lost  my  courage." 

"  Why  did  you  forbid  your  valet  de  chambrt,  Lubin, 
to  call  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  how  could  the  doctor  reach  my  dis- 
ease ?  All  his  science  could  not  make  me  the  legitimate 
son  of  the  Count  de  Commarin." 

"  Singular  remarks  made  by  you  were  overheard. 
You  seemed  to  be  no  longer  interested  in  any  thing 
about  the  house.  You  destroyed  papers  and  letters." 

"  I  had  decided  to  leave  the  house,  monsieur.  My 
resolution  explains  all  that." 

To  the  judge's  questions,  Albert  replied  promptly, 
without  the  least  embarrassment,  and  in  a  confident  tone. 
His  voice,  of  a  sympathetic  calibre,  did  not  tremble.  It 
concealed  no  emotion ;  it  retained  its  pure  and  vibrat- 
ing sound. 

Daburon  believed  it  wise  to  suspend  the  examination. 
With  an  adversary  of  this  strength,  he  was  evidently 
pursuing  a  false  course.  To  proceed  in  detail  was  folly ; 
they  neither  intimidated  him  nor  made  him  break 
through  his  reserve. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  judge  abruptly,  "  tell  me  ex- 
actly, I  beseech  you,  how  you  passed  your  time  last 
Tuesday  evening,  from  six  o'clock  until  midnight?  " 


258  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

For  the  first  time,  Albert  seemed  disconcerted.  His 
eyes,  which  had,  up  to  this  time,  been  fixed  upon  the 
judge,  wandered. 

"  During  Tuesday  evening,"  he  stammered,  repeat- 
ing the  phrase  to  gain  time. 

"  I  have  hit  it,"  thought  the  judge,  starting  with  joy, 
and  then  added  aloud,  "  yes,  from  six  o'clock  until  mid- 
night." 

"  I  am  afraid,  monsieur,"  answered  Albert,  "  it  will 
be  difficult  for  me  to  satisfy  you.  I  haven't  a  very  good 
memory." 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  me  that !  "  interrupted  the  judge.  "  If 
I  had  asked  what  you  were  doing  three  months  ago,  on 
a  certain  evening,  and  at  a  certain  hour,  I  could  ac- 
count for  your  hesitation;  but  this  is  about  Tuesday, 
and  it  is  now  Friday.  Moreover,  this  day,  so  close,  was 
the  last  of  the  carnival ;  it  was  Shrove  Tuesday.  That 
circumstance  ought  to  help  your  memory." 

"  That  evening,  I  was  walking,"  murmured  Albert. 

"  Now,"  continued  the  judge,  "  where  did  you  dine?  " 

"  At  home,  as  usual." 

"  No,  not  as  usual.  At  the  end  of  your  meal,  you 
asked  for  a  bottle  of  Bourdeaux,  which  you  emptied. 
You  doubtless  had  need  of  some  extra  excitement  for 
your  subsequent  plans." 

"  I  had  no  plans,"  replied  the  prisoner  with  a  very 
evident  uneasiness. 

"  You  deceive  yourself.  Two  friends  came  to  seek 
you.  You  replied  to  them,  before  sitting  down  to  din- 
ner, that  you  had  a  very  important  engagement." 

"  That  was  only  a  polite  way  of  getting  rid  of  them." 

"Why?" 

"  Can  you  not  understand,  monsieur  ?  I  was  resigned, 
but  not  comforted.  I  was  learning  to  get  accustomed 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  259 

to  the  terrible  blow.  Does  not  one  seek  solitude  in  the 
great  crises  of  one's  life  ?  " 

"  The  prosecution  supposes  that  you  wished  to  be  left 
alone,  that  you  might  go  to  Jonchere.  During  the  day, 
you  said,  '  She  cannot  resist  me.'  Of  whom  were  you 
speaking?  " 

"  Of  some  one  to  whom  I  had  written  the  evening 
before,  and  who  had  replied  to  me.  I  spoke  the  words, 
with  her  letter  still  in  my  hands." 

"  This  letter  was,  then,  from  a  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  burned  it." 

"  This  precaution  would  seem  to  imply  that  you  con- 
sidered it  as  compromising." 

"  Not  at  all,  monsieur ;  it  treated  entirely  of  private 
matters." 

Daburon  was  sure  that  this  letter  came  from  Mad- 
emoiselle d'Arlanges.  Should  he  nevertheless  ask  it, 
and  compel  himself  to  again  pronounce  this  name  of 
Claire,  so  terrible  to  him  ?  He  ventured  to  do  so,  hiding 
his  face  behind  a  paper,  so  that  the  prisoner  did  not  de- 
tect his  emotion. 

"  From  whom  did  this  letter  come?  "  he  asked. 

"  From  one  whom  I  cannot  name." 

*'  Monsieur,"  said  the  judge,  addressing  him  severely, 
"  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that  your  position  is  very 
dangerous.  Do  not  aggravate  it  by  this  culpable  reti- 
cence. You  are  here  to  tell  every  thing,  monsieur." 

"  My  affairs  alone,  not  those  of  others." 

Albert  gave  this  last  answer  in  a  dry  tone.  He  was 
giddy,  flurried,  exasperated,  by  the  prying  and  irritating 
mode  of  the  examination,  which  gave  him  no  time  to 
breathe.  The  judge's  questions  fell  upon  him  more 


260  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

thickly  than  the  blows  of  the  blacksmith's  hammer  upon 
the  red  hot  iron  which  he  is  anxious  to  form  before  it 
cools. 

The  apparent  rebellion  of  his  prisoner  troubled  Da- 
buron  seriously.  He  was  further  extremely  surprised 
to  find  the  discernment  of  the  old  detective  at  fault ;  just 
as  though  Tabaret  were  infallible.  Tabaret  had  pre- 
dicted an  unexceptionable  alibi;  and  this  alibi  was  not 
forthcoming.  Why  ?  Had  this  subtle  villain  something 
better  than  that?  What  ruse  had  he  at  the  bottom  of 
his  bag  ?  Doubtless  he  kept  in  reserve  some  unforeseen 
stroke,  perhaps  irresistible. 

"  Gently,"  thought  the  judge.  "  I  have  not  got  him 
yet."  Then  he  quickly  said  aloud, — 

"  Go  on.    After  dinner,  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  went  out  for  a  walk." 

"  Not  immediately.  The  bottle  drank,  you  smoked 
in  the  dining  room,  which  was  so  unusual  as  to  be  no- 
ticed. What  kind  of  cigars  do  you  usually  smoke  ?  " 

"  Trabucos." 

"  Do  you  not  use  a  cigar-holder,  to  keep  your  lips  from 
contact  with  the  tobacco  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  Albert,  much  surprised  at 
this  series  of  questions. 

"  What  time  did  you  go  out  ?  " 

"  About  eight  o'clock." 

"  Did  you  carry  an  umbrella  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Where  did  you  go?" 

"  I  walked  about  the  streets." 

"  Alone,  without  an  object,  all  the  evening?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Now  trace  out  your  wanderings  for  me  exactly." 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  that  is  very  difficult  for  me !    I  went 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  261 

out  simply  to  walk,  to  obtain  exercise,  to  drive  away  the 
torpor  which  had  depressed  me  for  three  days.  I  don't 
know  whether  you  can  picture  to  yourself  my  exact  con- 
dition. I  had  lost  my  head.  I  moved  about  at  hazard 
along  the  quays.  I  wandered  through  the  streets, — 

"  All  that  is  very  improbable,"  interrupted  the  judge. 
Daburon,  however,  knew  that  it  was  possible.  Had  not 
he  himself  one  night  in  a  race  of  folly  traversed  all 
Paris?  What  reply  could  he  have  made,  if  some  one 
had  asked  him  next  morning  where  he  had  gone,  ex- 
cept that  he  had  not  paid  attention,  and  did  not  know? 
But  he  had  forgotten  this ;  and  his  anguish,  too,  had 
much  less  reason  for  it  than  Albert's. 

The  inquiry  commenced,  he  had  caught  the  fever  of 
investigation.  He  renewed  his  desire  for  the  struggle, 
his  passion  for  his  calling. 

He  became  again  a  judge  of  inquiry,  like  the  fencing 
master,  who,  practicing  with  his  dearest  friend,  elated 
by  the  clash  of  weapons,  becomes  excited,  forgets  him- 
self, and  kills  him. 

"  So,"  continued  Daburon,  "  you  met  absolutely  no 
one  who  could  affirm  that  he  saw  you?  You  did  not 
speak  to  a  living  soul?  You  went  in  nowhere, — not 
even  into  a  cafe  or  a  theatre  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"  Well,  monsieur,  it  is  a  great  misfortune  for  you, — 
a  very  great  misfortune ;  for  I  must  inform  you,  that  it 
was  precisely  during  this  Tuesday  evening,  between 
eight  o'clock  and  midnight,  that  the  Widow.  Lerouge 
was  assassinated.  Justice  can  point  to  the  exact  hour. 
Again,  monsieur,  in  your  interests,  I  entreat  you  to  re- 
flect,— to  make  a  strong  appeal  to  your  memory." 

This  pointing  out  of  the  exact  day  and  hour  of  the 
murder  stunned  Albert.  He  carried  his  hand  to  his 


262  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

forehead  with  a  despairing  gesture.  But  he  replied  in  a 
calm  voice, — 

"  I  am  very  unfortunate,  monsieur ;  but  I  have  no  ex- 
planation to  make." 

Daburon's  surprise  was  profound.  What,  not  an 
alibi  f  Nothing?  This  could  be  no  snare  nor  system  of 
defence.  Was,  then,  this  man  as  strong  as  he  had  imag- 
ined? Doubtless;  but  he  had  been  taken  unaware, — 
caught  unprovided.  He  had  never  imagined  that  it  was 
possible  for  the  accusation  to  fall  upon  him ;  it  could 
only  do  so  by  a  miracle. 

The  judge  raised  slowly,  and  one  by  one,  the  large 
pieces  of  paper  that  covered  the  convicting  articles 
seized  in  Albert's  room. 

"  We  will  pass  on,"  he  continued,  "  to  the  examina- 
tion of  the  charges  which  weigh  against  you.  Will  you 
please  come  nearer  ?  Do  you  recognize  these  articles  as 
belonging  to  yourself?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  they  are  all  mine." 

"  Well,  take  this  foil.    Who  broke  it  ?  " 

"  I,  monsieur,  in  fencing  with  M.  Courtivois,  who 
can  bear  witness  to  it." 

"  That  will  be  inquired  into.  Where  is  the  broken 
end?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  Upon  that  point,  you  must  ask  my 
valet  de  chambre,  Lubin." 

"  Exactly.  He  declares  that  he  has  hunted  for  it, 
and  cannot  find  it.  I  must  tell  you  that  the  victim  re- 
ceived the  fatal  blow  with  the  end  of  a  foil,  broken  and 
sharpened.  This  piece  of  stuff,  on  which  the  assassin 
wiped  his  weapon,  proves  it." 

"  I  beseech  you,  monsieur,  to  order  a  most  minute 
search  for  this.  It  is  impossible  that  the  other  half  of 
the  foil  is  not  to  be  found." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  263 

"  Orders  have  been  given  to  that  effect.  See  here, 
traced  out  on  this  paper  the  exact  imprint  of  the  mur- 
derer's foot.  I  have  applied  it  to  the  sole  of  one  of  your 
boots;  it,  at  once,  you  perceive,  adapts  itself  with  the 
utmost  precision.  This  piece  of  plaster  has  been  poured 
into  the  hollow,  left  by  your  heel :  you  observe  that  it  is, 
in  all  respects,  your  own  heel.  I  perceive,  too,  the  mark 
of  a  peg,  which  is  also  here." 

Albert  followed  with  marked  anxiety  the  judge's 
every  movement.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  struggling 
against  a  growing  terror.  Was  he  attacked  by  that 
panic  which  stupefies  criminals  when  they  are  on  the 
point  of  being  convicted  ?  To  all  remarks  of  the  magis- 
trate, he  replied  in  a  dull  voice, — 

"  It  is  true, — perfectly  true." 

"  Wait,"  continued  Daburon ;  "  listen  further,  before 
crying  out.  The  criminal  had  an  umbrella.  The  end 
of  this  umbrella  sank  in  the  mud ;  the  round  of  wood- 
work, which  ends  the  cloth,  was  found  moulded  in  the 
hollow.  Here  is  this  clod  of  mud,  raised  with  the  ut- 
most care;  and  here  is  your  umbrella.  Compare  the 
rounds.  Are  they  alike,  or  not  ?  " 

'  These  things,  monsieur,"  attempted  Albert,  "  are 
wonderful  coincidences." 

"  Well,  that  remains  to  be  proved ;  look  at  the  end 
of  this  cigar,  found  at  the  scene  of  the  crime,  and  tell 
of  what  brand  it  is,  and  how  it  was  smoked." 

"  It  is  a  trabuco,  and  was  smoked  with  a  cigar- 
holder." 

"Like  these,  eh?"  persisted  the  judge,  showing  the 
cigars  and  holders  of  amber  and  meerschaum,  taken 
from  the  library  mantel. 

"  Ah !  "  murmured  Albert,  "  it  is  a  fatality, — a  won- 
derful coincidence." 


264  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Patience ;  that  is  nothing,  as  yet.  The  assassin  of 
the  Widow  Lerouge  wore  gloves.  The  victim,  in  the 
convulsions  of  agony,  seized  the  murderer's  hands ;  and 
these  fragments  of  skin  remained  in  her  nails.  These 
were  preserved,  and  are  here.  They  are  of  pearl  gray, 
are  they  not  ?  Now,  here  are  the  gloves  which  you  wore 
on  Tuesday.  They  are  gray,  and  they  are  frayed.  Com- 
pare these  particles  with  your  own  gloves.  Do  they  not 
correspond  ?  Are  they  not  of  the  same  color,  the  same 
skin?" 

He  could  neither  deny  it,  equivocate,  nor  find  sub- 
terfuges. The  evidence  was  there  before  his  eyes.  The 
brutal  deed  shone  forth.  While  appearing  to  occupy 
himself  solely  with  the  objects  lying  upon  his  table,  Da- 
buron  never  lost  sight  of  his  prisoner.  Albert  was  ter- 
rified. A  cold  perspiration  bathed  his  face,  and  glided 
drop  by  drop  down  his  cheeks.  His  hands  trembled  so 
much  that  they  were  of  no  use  to  him.  With  a  choking 
voice  he  repeated, — 

"  It  is  horrible,  horrible !  " 

"  Finally,"  pursued  the  inexorable  judge,  "  here  are 
the  pantaloons  you  wore  on  the  evening  of  the  murder. 
It  is  plain  that  they  have  been  wet ;  and,  besides  the  mud, 
there  are  traces  of  dirt.  Observe,  too,  they  are  torn  on 
the  knees.  We  will  admit,  for  the  sake  of  argument, 
'  that  you  might  not  remember  where  you  went  on  that 
evening;  but  who  could  believe  that  you  do  not  know 
where  you  tore  your  pantaloons  and  frayed  your 
gloves  ?  " 

What  courage  could  resist  such  assaults?  Albert's 
firmness  and  energy  were  at  an  end.  His  brain  whirled. 
He  fell  heavily  into  a  chair,  exclaiming, — 

"  I  shall  go  mad !  " 

"  You  see,"  insisted  the  judge,  whose  gaze  had  be- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  265 

come  unbearably  fixed  upon  him, — "  you  see  that  the 
Widow  Lerotige  could  only  have  been  stabbed  by  you." 
I  see,"  protested  Albert,  "  that  I  am  a  victim  of  one 
of  those  terrible  fatalities  which  makes  men  doubt  the 
evidence  of  their  reason.  I  am  innocent." 

'  Then  tell  me  where  you  passed  Tuesday  evening." 

"  Ah,  monsieur !  "  cried  the  prisoner,  "  I  must, — " 
But,  restraining  himself,  he  added  in  a  dull  voice,  "  I 
have  made  the  only  answer  that  I  can  make." 

Daburon  arose,  having  now  reached  his  final  grand 
stroke. 

"  It  is,  then,  my  duty,"  said  he,  with  a  shade  of  irony, 
"  to  supply  your  failure  of  memory.  I  am  going  to  re- 
count to  you  what  you  did.  On  Tuesday  evening,  at 
eight  o'clock,  after  having  received  from  wine  a  dread- 
ful energy,  you  left  your  home.  At  thirty-five  minutes 
past  eight,  you  took  the  cars  at  St.  Lazare  station.  At 
nine  o'clock,  you  got  out  at  Rueil  station." 

And,  adopting  without  shame,  the  ideas  of  Pere 
Tabaret,  the  judge  of  inquiry  repeated  nearly  word  for 
word  the  tirade  improvised  the  night  before  by  his  ama- 
teur agent  of  police. 

He  had  every  reason,  while  speaking,  to  admire  the 
penetration  of  the  old  detective.  In  all  his  life,  his  elo- 
quence had  never  produced  so  striking  an  effect.  Every 
sentence,  every  word,  carried  weight.  The  assurance 
of  the  prisoner,  already  shaken,  fell  piece  by  piece,  just 
as  the  walls  of  a  town  give  way  when  riddled  with  balls. 

Albert  was,  as  the  judge  perceived,  like  a  man,  who, 
rolling  to  the  bottom  of  a  precipice,  sees  all  the  points 
which  might  retard  his  fall  fail  him,  and  who  feels  a 
new  and  more  painful  bruise  at  each  projecture,  against 
which  his  body  strikes. 

"  And  now,"  concluded  the  judge  of  inquiry,  "  listen 


266  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

to  good  advice :  do  not  persist  in  this  mode  of  denying, 
impossible  to  sustain.  Change  your  mind.  Justice,  be 
assured,  is  ignorant  of  nothing  which  it  is  important  to 
know.  Believe  me ;  seek  the  indulgence  of  the  courts : 
confess  your  guilt." 

Daburon  did  not  believe  that  his  prisoner  would  again 
refuse.  He  pictured  him  overwhelmed,  confounded, 
throwing  himself  at  his  feet,  asking  for  mercy.  But 
he  was  deceived. 

However  great  appeared  Albert's  prostration,  he 
found  in  one  last  effort  of  his  will  sufficient  strength  to 
recover  himself  and  again  protest, — 

"  You  are  right,  monsieur,"  he  said  in  a  sad,  but  firm 
voice ;  "  every  thing  seems  to  prove  the  criminal.  In 
your  place,  I  should  have  spoken  as  you  have  done ;  and 
yet  I  swear  to  you  that  I  am  innocent." 

"  Upon  my  word," — began  the  judge. 

"  I  am  innocent,"  interrupted  Albert ;  "  and  I  repeat 
it,  without  the  least  hope  of  changing  in  any  way  your 
conviction.  Yes,  every  thing  speaks  against  me, — every 
thing,  even  my  own  bearing  before  you.  It  is  true,  my 
courage  has  been  shaken  by  these  incredible,  miraculous, 
overwhelming  coincidences.  I  am  overcome,  because  I 
feel  the  impossibility  of  establishing  my  innocence.  But 
I  do  not  despair.  My  honor  and  my  life  are  in  the  hands 
of  God.  At  the  same  time  that  I  appear  to  you  lost, — 
for  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  monsieur, — I  do  not  despair 
of  a  complete  justification.  I  await  it  confidently." 

"What  have  you  to  say?"  interrupted  the  judge. 

"  Nothing  but  what  I  have  already  said,  monsieur." 

"  So  you  persist  in  denying  your  guilt  ?  " 

"  I  am  innocent." 

"  But  this  is  folly—" 

"  I  am  innocent." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  267 

"  Very  well,"  said  Daburon ;  "  that  is  enough  for  to- 
day. You  shall  hear  the  reading  of  the  official  report, 
and  will  then  be  taken  back  to  your  prison.  I  exhort 
you  to  reflect.  Night  will  perhaps  bring  on  a  better 
feeling;  if  you  wish  at  any  time  to  speak  to  me,  send 
word  and  I  will  come  to  you.  I  will  give  orders  to  that 
effect.  You  may  read  now,  Constant." 

When  Albert  departed  with  the  gendarmes,  the  judge 
muttered  in  a  low  tone,  "  There's  an  obstinate  fellow  for 
you."  He  certainly  had  not  a  shadow  of  doubt.  To 
him,  Albert  was  as  surely  the  murderer  as  if  he  heard 
him  confess  it.  Even  if  he  should  persist  in  his  purpose 
of  denial  to  the  end  of  the  investigation,  it  would  be  im- 
possible, that,  with  the  proofs  already  in  existence,  a 
verdict  of  "  Not  guilty  "  should  be  rendered.  It  was 
a  hundred  to  one,  that  to  all  the  questions  the  jury 
would  reply  in  the  affirmative. 

However,  left  to  himself,  Daburon  did  not  experience 
that  intense  satisfaction,  mixed  with  vanity,  which  is 
ordinarily  felt  after  one  has  successfully  conducted  an 
examination,  when  he  has  succeeded  in  getting  his  pris- 
oner into  Albert's  state.  Something  disturbed  him  and 
shocked  him.  At  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  he  felt  ill  at 
ease.  He  had  triumphed ;  but  his  victory  gave  him  only 
uneasiness,  pain,  and  vexation.  A  reflection  so  simple 
that  he  could  hardly  understand  why  it  had  not  occurred 
to  him  before  increased  his  discontent,  and  made  him 
angry  with  himself. 

"  Something  told  me,"  he  muttered,  "  that  I  was 
wrong  to  undertake  this  business.  I  am  punished  for 
not  having  obeyed  this  inner  voice.  I  must  excuse  my- 
self from  going  on  with  it.  This  Viscount  de  Com- 
marin  has  been  arrested,  imprisoned,  examined,  over- 
powered: he  will  certainly  be  convicted,  and  probably 


268  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

condemned.  Had  I  been  a  stranger  to  the  trial,  I  could 
have  appeared  in  Claire's  presence.  Her  grief  would 
have  been  great.  As  her  friend,  I  could  have  soothed 
her,  mingled  my  tears  with  hers,  calmed  her  regrets. 
With  time,  she  might  have  been  consoled, — perhaps 
have  forgotten  him.  She  might,  perhaps,  then  have  re- 
warded me;  who  knows?  While  now,  whatever  may 
happen,  I  shall  be  an  object  of  terror  to  her;  she  will 
never  be  able  to  endure  the  sight  of  me.  I  shall  always 
in  her  eyes  be  the  assassin  of  her  lover.  I  have  with 
my  own  hands  formed  between  her  and  my  self  an  abyss 
which  centuries  can  never  fill,  by  my  own  great  fault." 

The  unhappy  judge  heaped  the  bitterest  reproaches 
upon  himself.  He  was  in  despair.  He  had  never  so 
hated  Albert, — this  wretched  man,  who,  stained  with  a 
crime,  stood  in  the  way  of  his  happiness.  Then  how  he 
cursed  Pere  Tabaret!  Alone,  he  should  not  have  de- 
cided so  quickly.  He  would  have  thought  over  it,  ma- 
tured his  decision,  and  certainly  recollected  the  incon- 
veniences, which  now  occurred  to  him.  This  man,  like 
a  badly  trained  bloodhound,  urged  on  and  carried  away 
by  his  stupid  passion,  had  become  confused. 

It  was  precisely  this  unfavorable  moment  that  Taba- 
ret chose  for  making  his  appearance  before  the  judge. 
He  had  been  informed  of  the  termination  of  the  inquiry ; 
and  he  arrived,  impatient  to  know  what  had  passed, 
swelling  with  curiosity,  his  nose  in  air,  distended  with 
the  sweet  hope  of  hearing  of  the  fulfilment  of  his  predic- 
tions. 

"  What  answer  did  he  make  ?  "  he  asked  almost  before 
he  had  opened  the  door. 

"  He  is  evidently  the  criminal,"  replied  the  judge, 
with  a  harshness  very  different  from  his  usual  manner. 

Pere  Tabaret,  who  had  expected  to  receive  praises 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  269 

by  the  basketful,  was  surprised  at  this  tone!  It  was, 
therefore,  with  great  hesitancy  that  he  offered  his  fur- 
ther services. 

"  I  have  come,"  he  said  modestly,  "  to  know  if  any 
investigations  are  necessary  to  demolish  the  alibi  offered 
by  the  prisoner." 

"  He  gave  no  alibi,"  replied  the  magistrate  dryly. 

<(  How,"  cried  the  old  detective,  "  no  alibi?  Pshaw ! 
T  ask  pardon:  he  has  of  course  then  confessed  every 
thing." 

"  No,"  said  the  judge  impatiently,  "  he  has  confessed 
nothing.  He  acknowledges  that  the  proofs  are  decisive : 
he  cannot  give  an  account  of  how  he  spent  his  time ;  but 
he  protests  his  innocence." 

In  the  centre  of  the  office,  Tabaret,  his  mouth  wide 
open,  his  eyes  starting  wildly,  stood  in  the  most  gro- 
tesque attitude  his  astonishment  could  effect.  He  was 
literally  thunderstruck. 

In  spite  of  his  anger,  Daburon  could  not  help  smil- 
ing; and  even  Constant  gave  a  grin,  which  on  his  lips 
was  equivalent  to  a  paroxysm  of  laughter. 

"  Not  an  alibi,  nothing  ?  "  murmured  the  old  fellow. 
"  No  explanations  ?  The  idea !  It  is  inconceivable.  Not 
an  alibi?  We  must  be  mistaken :  he  is  certainly  not  the 
criminal.  It  cannot  be  at  all !  " 

The  judge  of  inquiry  felt  that  the  old  amateur  must 
have  been  waiting  the  result  of  the  examination  at  the 
wine  shop  around  the  corner,  or  else  that  he  had  gone 
mad. 

"  Unfortunately,"  said  he,  "  we  are  not  mistaken.  It 
is  too  clearly  shown  that  Monsieur  de  Commarin  is  the 
murderer.  But,  if  you  like,  ask  Constant  for  his  report 
of  the  examination,  and  run  it  over  while  I  put  these 
papers  in  order." 


270  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  old  fellow  with  feverish  anxiety. 

He  sat  down  in  Constant's  chair,  and,  leaning  his 
elbows  on  the  table,  burying  his  hands  in  his  hair,  in  less 
than  no  time  read  through  the  report.  When  he  had 
finished,  he  arose  wild,  pale,  his  face  distorted. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  he  to  the  judge  in  a  strange  voice, 
"  I  have  been  the  involuntary  cause  of  a  terrible  mistake. 
This  man  is  innocent." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Daburon  without  stopping  his 
preparations  for  departure,  "  you  are  losing  your  head, 
my  dear  Tabaret.  How,  after  all  that  you  have  read 
there,  can —  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  yes ;  it  is  because  I  have  read  this 
that  I  entreat  you  to  pause,  or  we  shall  add  one  more 
to  the  sad  list  of  judicial  errors.  Read  this  examination 
over  carefully ;  there  is  not  a  reply  which  does  not  de- 
clare this  unfortunate  man  innocent, — not  one  word 
which  does  not  throw  out  a  ray  of  light.  And  he  is 
still  in  prison,  still  in  solitary  confinement?" 

"  He  is ;  and  there  he  will  remain,  if  you  please," 
broke  in  the  judge.  "  It  becomes  you  well  to  speak  in 
this  manner,  after  the  way  you  talked  last  night,  while 
I  hesitated  so  much." 

"  But,  monsieur,"  cried  the  old  detective.  "  I  say  now. 
precisely  the  same.  Ah,  wretched  Tabaret !  all  is  lost ; 
and  they  will  not  understand  you.  Pardon  me,  mon- 
sieur, if  I  lack  the  respect  due  to  your  office;  but  you 
have  not  grasped  my  method.  It  is,  however,  very  sim- 
ple. Given  a  crime,  with  all  the  circumstances  and  de- 
tails, I  construct,  piece  by  piece,  a  plan  of  accusation, 
which  I  do  not  warrant  until  it  is  entire  and  perfect. 
If  a  man  is  found  to  whom  this  plan  applies  exactly  in 
every  particular,  the  author  of  the  crime  is  found ;  other- 
wise, we  have  laid  hands  upon  an  innocent  person.  It  is 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  271 

not  sufficient  that  such  and  such  particulars  seem  to 
point  to  him ;  it  must  be  all  or  nothing.  This  is  infalli- 
ble. Now,  in  this  case,  how  have  I  reached  the  crimi- 
nal ?  By  proceeding  by  inference  from  the  known  to  the 
unknown.  I  have  examined  his  work;  and  I  have 
formed  an  idea  of  the  worker.  Reason  and  logic  lead 
us  to  what?  To  a  villain,  determined,  courageous,  and 
prudent,  versed  in  the  business.  And  do  you  think  that 
such  a  man  would  neglect  a  precaution  that  would  not 
be  omitted  by  the  commonest  tyro  ?  It  is  inconceivable. 
What!  This  man  is  so  skilful  as  to  leave  such  feeble 
traces  that  they  escaped  Gevrol's  practiced  eye ;  and  you 
think  he  would  risk  discovery  by  leaving  an  entire  night 
unaccounted  for  ?  It's  impossible !  I  am  as  sure  of  my 
system  as  of  a  well-proved  rule  of  arithmetic.  The 
Jonchere  assassin  had  an  alibi.  Albert  has  offered  none ; 
then  he  is  innocent." 

Daburon  looked  at  the  old  detective  pityingly, — much 
as  he  would  look  at  a  remarkable  monomaniac.  When 
he  had  finished, — 

"  My  worthy  Monsieur  Tabaret,"  he  said  to  him, 
"  you  are  entirely  in  the  wrong.  You  err  through  an 
excess  of  subtlety.  You  allow  too  freely  to  others  the 
wonderful  sagacity  with  which  you  yourself  are  en- 
dowed. Our  man  has  failed  in  prudence,  simply  because 
he  believed  his  rank  would  place  him  above  suspicion." 

"  No,  monsieur, — no,  a  thousand  times  no.  My  crim- 
inal,— the  true  one, — he  whom  we  have  yet  to  find, 
would  dread  every  thing.  Besides,  does  Albert  defend 
himself  ?  No.  He  is  overwhelmed ;  because  he  per- 
ceives the  coincidences  so  fatal  that  they  appear  to  con- 
demn him,  without  a  chance  of  escape.  Did  he  try  to 
excuse  himself?  No.  He  simply  replied,  '  It  is  ter- 
rible.' And  then  this  reticence  that  I  cannot  explain." 


272  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  I  can  explain  it  very  easily ;  and  I  am  as  confident 
as  though  he  had  confessed  every  thing.  I  have  more 
than  sufficient  proofs  for  that." 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  those  proofs !  There  are  always 
enough  of  those  against  an  arrested  man.  They  have 
existed  against  every  innocent  man  who  was  ever  con- 
demned. Proofs !  Why,  I  had  them  in  quantities 
against  Kaiser,  the  poor  little  tailor,  who — " 

"  Well,"  interrupted  the  judge,  hastily,  "  if  he  is  not 
the  one  most  interested  in  the  crime,  who  is?  His 
father,  the  Count  de  Commarin?  " 

"  No :  the  true  assassin  is  a  young  man." 

Daburon  had  arranged  his  papers,  and  finished  his 
preparations.  He  took  up  his  hat,  and,  as  he  was  go- 
ing out,  replied, — 

"  Adieu !  Come  and  see  me  by-and-by,  Tabaret,  when 
you  have  got  rid  of  these  fancies.  To-morrow  we  will 
talk  the  whole  matter  over  again.  I  am  rather  tired  to- 
night." Then  he  added,  addressing  his  clerk,  "  Con- 
stant, bring  me  word,  in  the  court  of  records,  in  case  the 
prisoner  Commarin  wishes  to  speak  to  me." 

He  had  reached  the  door ;  but  Tabaret  barred  his  exit. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  old  man,  "  in  the  name  of 
heaven  listen  to  me !  He  is  innocent,  I  swear  to  you. 
Help  me,  then,  to  find  the  real  criminal.  Monsieur, 
think  of  your  remorse  in  case  you  take  this  false 
step." 

But  the  magistrate  did  not  wish  to  hear  more.  He 
pushed  Pere  Tabaret  quickly  aside,  and  hascened  into 
the  gallery. 

The  old  man  now  turned  to  Constant.  He  wished 
to  convince,  persuade,  prove  to  him.  Lost  trouble :  the 
tall  clerk  hastened  to  fold  up  his  baggage,  thinking  of 
his  soup,  which  was  growing  cold. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  273 

Having  closed  the  study  door,  Pere  Tabaret,  wretch- 
ed in  spirit,  was  alone  in  the  dark  gallery.  The  noise  of 
the  courts  was  hushed :  all  was  silent  as  the  tomb.  The 
old  detective  desperately  grasped  his  hair  with  both 
hands. 

"  Ah !  "  said  he,  "  Albert  is  innocent ;  and  it  is  I  who 
have  betrayed  him.  I,  like  a  madman,  have  infused  into 
the  obstinate  spirit  of  this  judge  a  conviction  that  I  can 
no  longer  control.  He  is  innocent,  and  is  yet  enduring 
the  most  horrible  anguish.  If  he  should  commit  sui- 
cide !  There  have  been  instances  of  wretched  men.  who 
in  despair  at  being  falsely  accused  have  killed  them- 
selves in  their  prison.  Poor  boy !  But  I  will  not  abandon 
him.  I  have  ruined  him :  I  will  save  him !  I  must,  I 
will  find  the  criminal ;  and  he  shall  pay  dearly  for  my 
mistake, — the  scoundrel !  " 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AFTER  seeing  the  Count  de  Commarin  safely  in  his 
carriage  at  the  entrance  of  the  palais  de  justice,  Noel 
Gerdy  seemed  inclined  to  leave  him. 

Resting  one  hand  against  the  half-opened  carriage- 
door,  he  bowed  respectfully,  and  said, — 

"  When  shall  I  have  the  honor  of  paying  my  respects 
to  you,  monsieur?  " 

"  Come  with  me  now,"  said  the  old  man. 

The  advocate,  still  leaning  forward,  muttered  some 
excuses.  He  had,  he  said,  important  business :  he  must 
positively  return  to  his  rooms  at  once. 

"  Come,"  repeated  the  count,  in  a  tone  which  admit- 
ted of  no  reply. 

Noel  obeyed. 


274  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  You  have  found  your  father,"  said  M.  de  Com- 
marin  in  a  low  tone ;  "  but  I  must  warn  you,  that  you 
at  the  same  time  lose  your  independence." 

The  carriage  started;  and  now,  for  the  first  time, 
the  count  noticed  that  Noel  had  very  modestly  taken  his 
seat  opposite  him.  This  modest  bearing  pleased  him 
much. 

"  Sit  here,  by  my  side,  monsieur,"  he  said ;  "  are  you 
not  my  son  ?  " 

The  advocate,  without  replying,  took  his  seat  by  the 
side  of  the  old  man,  but  as  far  from  him  as  possi- 
ble. 

He  had  received  a  terrible  shock  in  Daburon's  pres- 
ence; for  he  retained  none  of  his  usual  boldness,  none 
of  that  sang-froid  by  which  he  was  accustomed  to  con- 
ceal his  feelings.  Fortunately,  the  ride  gave  him  time 
to  breathe,  and  to  recover  himself  a  little. 

On  the  way  from  the  palais  de  justice  to  their  home, 
not  a  word  passed  between  the  father  and  son. 

When  the  carriage  stopped  before  the  flight  of  stairs, 
and  the  count  got  out  with  Noel's  assistance,  there  was 
great  commotion  among  the  servants. 

There  were,  it  is  true,  few  of  them  present,  nearly  all 
having  been  summoned  to  the  palais ;  but  the  count  and 
the  advocate  had  scarcely  disappeared,  when,  as  if  by 
enchantment,  they  were  all  assembled  in  the  entry.  They 
came  from  the  garden,  the  stables,  the  cellar,  and  the 
kitchen.  Nearly  all  bore  marks  of  their  calling.  One 
young  groom  ran  about  with  his  wooden  shoes  filled 
with  straw,  shuffling  on  the  marble  floor  like  a  mangy 
dog  on  the  Gobelin  tapestry.  One  of  these  fellows  rec- 
ognized Noel  from  his  visit  of  the  previous  Sunday ;  and 
that  was  enough  to  set  fire  to  all  these  lovers  of  gossip, 
thirsting  for  scandal. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  275 

Since  morning,  moreover,  the  unusual  events  at  the 
Commarin  house  had  started  a  great  uproar  in  society. 
A  thousand  stories  were  circulated,  talked  over,  cor- 
rected, and  added  to  by  the  ill-natured  and  malicious, — 
some  abominably  absurd,  others  simply  idiotic.  Twenty 
people,  very  noble  and  still  more  proud,  had  not  been 
too  proud  to  send  their  most  intelligent  servants  to  pay 
a  little  visit  among  the  count's  servants,  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  learning  something  positive.  As  it  was, 
nobody  knew  any  thing ;  and  yet  everybody  was  fully  in- 
formed. 

Let  any  one  explain  who  can  this  very  common  phe- 
nomenon :  a  crime  is  committed ;  justice  arrives,  wrap- 
ping itself  in  mystery ;  the  police  are  still  ignorant  of  al- 
most every  thing;  and  yet  details  of  the  most  minute 
character  are  circulated  about  the  streets. 

"  Ah,"  said  a  cook,  "  that  great  dark  fellow  with  the 
whiskers  is  the  count's  true  son !  " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  one  of  the  servants  who  had 
accompanied  M.  de  Commarin ;  "  as  for  the  other,  he  is 
no  more  his  son  than  Jean  here ;  who,  by  the  way,  will  be 
kicked  out  of  doors,  if  he  is  caught  in  here  with  his 
dirty  working-shoes  on." 

"  Likely  story,"  exclaimed  Jean  smiling  a  little  at 
the  danger  which  threatened  him. 

"  He  has  been  expected  all  the  time,"  said  the  cook. 

"Why,  how  is  that?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  one  day,  long  ago,  when  the  countess 
who  is  now  dead  was  out  walking  with  her  little  son, 
who  was  about  six  months  old,  the  child  was  stolen 
by  gypsies.  The  poor  lady  was  full  of  grief ;  but,  above 
all,  feared  her  husband,  who  was  not  kind  to  her.  What 
was  to  be  done?  She  purchased  a  brat  from  an  old 
woman,  who  happened  to  be  passing ;  and,  never  having 


276  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

noticed  his  child,  the  count  has  never  known  the  differ- 
ence since." 

"  But  the  assassination  ?  " 

"  That's  very  simple.  When  the  woman  saw  her  brat 
in  such  a  nice  berth,  she  bled  him  finely,  and  has  kept 
up  a  system  of  blackmailing  all  along.  So  he  resolved 
to  put  an  end  to  it,  and  came  to  a  final  settling  with  her." 

"  And  this  brown  fellow, — what  about  him  ?  " 

The  orator  would  have  gone  on,  without  doubt,  giv- 
ing the  most  satisfactory  explanations  of  every  thing 
if  he  had  not  been  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Lubin, 
who  came  from  the  palais  in  company  with  young  Jo- 
seph. His  success,  so  brilliant  up  to  this  time,  was  cut 
short,  just  as  that  of  an  inferior  singer  when  the  star 
comes  pn  the  stage.  The  entire  assembly  turned  towards 
Albert's  valet  de  chambre,  all  eyes  questioning  him.  He 
knew  at  once  that  he  was  a  man  of  importance ;  but  he 
did  not  abuse  his  advantages,  and  make  his  little  world 
languish  too  long. 

"  What  a  rascal !  "  he  cried  out.  "  What  a  villainous 
fellow  is  this  Albert !  " 

He  purposely  did  away  with  "  monsieur  "  and  "  vis- 
count," and  met  with  general  approval  for  so  doing. 

"  But,"  he  added,  "  I  always  had  my  doubts.  The 
fellow  didn't  please  me  by  half.  Just  see  to  what  we 
are  exposed  every  day  in  our  profession.  It  is  dread- 
fully disagreeable.  The  judge  concealed  nothing  from 
me.  '  Lubin/  said  he,  '  it  was  very  wrong  for  a  man 
like  you  to  serve  such  a  scoundrel.'  For  you  must 
know,  that,  besides  an  old  woman  of  about  eighty,  he 
also  assassinated  a  young  girl  of  twelve.  The  little 
child,  the  judge  told  me,  was  chopped  into  bits." 

"  Ah !  "  put  in  Joseph ;  "  he  must  have  been  a  brute. 
How  they  will  give  it  to  him  for  such  a  deed,  even 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  277 

though  he  is  rich;  for  they  always  punish  poor  men, 
who  do  it  simply  to  gain  a  living !  " 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Lubin  in  a  knowing  tone ;  "  you  will 
see  him  come  out  of  it  as  pure  as  snow.  These  rich 
men  can  do  any  thing." 

"  But,"  said  the  cook,  "  I'd  give  willingly  a  month's 
wages  to  be  a  mouse,  and  to  listen  to  what  the  proud 
count  and  the  tall  brown  fellow  are  talking  about.  If 
I  could  only  get  a  little  peep  through  the  key-hole." 

This  proposition  did  not  meet  with  much  favor.  The 
servants  knew  by  experience  that,  on  important  occa- 
sions, spying  was  worse  than  useless. 

M.  de  Commarin  knew  all  about  servants  from 
infancy. 

His  study  was,  therefore,  a  shelter  to  all  imprudence. 
The  sharpest  ear  placed  at  the  keyhole  could  understand 
nothing  of  what  was  going  on  within,  even  when  the 
count  was  in  a  passion,  and  his  voice  loudest.  One 
alone,  Denis,  monsieur  le  premier,  as  they  called  him, 
had  the  opportunity  of  gathering  information ;  but  he 
was  well  paid  for  being  discreet :  and  he  was  discretion 
itself. 

At  this  time,  Monsieur  de  Commarin  was  sitting  in 
the  same  chair  which  he  had  beaten  with  such  a  furious 
hand  while  listening  to  Albert. 

From  the  moment  he  touched  the  step  of  his  carriage, 
the  old  gentleman  recovered  his  haughtiness.  He  be- 
came even  more  arrogant  in  his  manner,  as  if  he  felt 
the  mortification  of  his  attitude  before  the  judge,  and 
wished  himself  dead  for  what  he  now  considered  an 
unpardonable  weakness. 

He  wondered  how  he  could  have  yielded  to  a  momen- 
tary impulse, — how  his  grief  could  have  so  basely  be- 
trayed him. 


278  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

At  the  remembrance  of  the  avowals  wrested  from  him 
in  his  wildness,  he  blushed,  and  called  himself  the  worst 
of  names. 

Like  Albert,  the  night  before,  Noel,  having  recovered 
himself  fully,  held  himself  erect,  cold  as  marble,  respect- 
ful, but  no  longer  humble. 

The  father  and  son  exchanged  glances  which  had 
nothing  of  sympathy  nor  of  friendliness. 

They  examined  one  another;  they  measured  each 
other,  much  as  two  adversaries  feel  their  way  with  their 
eyes  before  encountering  with  their  weapons. 

"  Monsieur,"  finally  said  the  count  in  a  hard  tone, 
"  henceforth  this  house  is  yours.  From  this  moment, 
you  are  the  Viscount  de  Commarin;  you  re-enter  into 
the  fulness  of  the  rights  of  which  you  have  been  de- 
prived. Wait.  Listen,  before  you  thank  me.  I  wish, 
in  the  beginning,  to  relieve  you  from  all  misunderstand- 
ing. Had  I  been  master  of  the  situation,  I  should  never 
have  recognized  you :  Albert  should  have  remained  in 
the  position  in  which  I  placed  him." 

"  I  understand  you,  monsieur,"  replied  Noel.  "  I 
don't  think  that  I  could  ever  bring  myself  to  do  an  act 
like  that  by  which  you  deprived  me  of  my  birthright; 
but  I  declare  that,  if  I  had  the  misfortune  to  have  done 
it,  I  should  have  thereafter  acted  as  you  have.  Your 
rank  was  too  conspicuous  to  permit  a  voluntary  ac- 
knowledgment. It  was  a  thousand  times  better  to  suf- 
fer an  injustice  to  continue  in  secret  than  to  expose 
your  name  to  the  comments  of  the  malicious." 

This  answer  surprised  the  count,  and  very  agreeably. 
But  he  would  not  let  his  satisfaction  be  seen ;  and  it 
was  with  a  still  harder  tone  that  he  continued, — 

"  I  have  no  claim,  monsieur,  upon  your  affection ;  I 
do  not  ask  for  it ;  but  I  insist  at  all  times  upon  the  ut- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  279 

most  deference.  It  is  traditional  in  our  house,  that  the 
son  shall  never  interrupt  his  father  when  he  is  speak- 
ing; that  you  have  just  been  guilty  of.  Children  are 
not  to  judge  their  parents ;  that  also  you  have  just  done. 
When  I  was  forty  years  of  age,  my  father  was  in  his 
second  childhood ;  but  I  do  not  remember  having  raised 
my  voice  once  above  his.  This  much,  said  by  way  of 
caution,  I  continue.  I  have  undergone  considerable  ex- 
pense in  providing  Albert  with  an  establishment  distinct 
from  my  own, — with  servants,  horses,  and  carriages; 
and  I  have  allowed  the  unhappy  boy  four  thousand 
francs  a  month.  I  have  decided,  in  order  to  put  a  stop 
to  all  foolish  gossip,  and  to  make  your  position  the 
easier,  that  you  ought  to  hold  a  more  important  place 
in  the  house,  this  for  my  own  sake.  Further,  I  will 
increase  your  monthly  allowance  to  six  thousand  francs ; 
which  I  trust  you  will  spend  as  nobly  as  possible,  giv- 
ing the  least  possible  chance  for  ridicule.  I  cannot  too 
strongly  exhort  you  to  the  utmost  caution.  Keep  close 
watch  over  yourself.  Weigh  your  words  well.  Reason 
about  your  slightest  actions.  You  will  be  the  point  of 
observation  for  thousands  of  impertinent  idlers  who 
compose  our  w.orld ;  your  blunders  will  be  their  delight. 
Do  you  fence?  " 

"  Moderately  well." 

"So.    Do  you  ride?" 

"  No ;  but  in  six  months  I  will  be  a  good  horseman, 
or  break  my  neck." 

"  It  is  fashionable  to  be  a  horseman,  not  to  break 
one's  neck.  Let  us  proceed.  You  will,  of  course,  not 
occupy  Albert's  apartments.  They  will  be  closely  locked, 
as  soon  as  they  are  free  from  the  police.  Thank  heaven ! 
the  house  is  large.  You  will  occupy  the  other  wing; 
and  there  will  be  a  separate  entrance  to  your  apart- 


280  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ments,  by  a  separate  staircase.  Servants,  horses,  car- 
riages, furniture,  such  as  becomes  a  viscount,  will  be 
at  your  service,  cost  what  it  may,  within  forty-eight 
hours.  On  the  day  of  your  taking  possession,  you 
must  look  as  though  you  had  been  installed  for  years. 
There  will  be  great  scandal ;  but  that  cannot  be 
avoided.  A  prudent  father  might  send  you  away  for 
a  few  months  to  the  Austrian  court  or  to  the  Russian ; 
but,  in  this  instance,  such  prudence  would  be  absurd. 
Much  better  a  dreadful  outcry,  which  ends  quickly,  than 
low  murmurs  which  last  forever.  Dare  public  opinion ; 
and,  in  eight  days,  it  will  have  exhausted  its  comments, 
and  the  story  will  have  become  old.  So,  to  work ! 
This  evening,  the  laborers  shall  be  here;  and,  in  the 
first  place,  I  must  present  you  to  my  servants." 

To  put  this  purpose  into  execution,  the  count  moved 
to  touch  the  bell-rope.  Noel  stopped  him. 

Since  the  commencement  of  this  interview,  the  advo- 
cate had  wandered  in  the  regions  of  the  thousand  and 
one  nights,  the  wonderful  lamp  in  his  hand.  The  fairy 
reality  cast  into  the  shade  his  wildest  dreams.  He  was 
dazzled  at  the  words  of  the  count,  and  had 
need  of  all  his  reason  to  struggle  against  the 
giddiness  which  came  over  him,  at  realizing  his  great 
good  fortune.  Touched  by  a  magic  wand,  he  seemed 
to  awake  to  a  thousand  novel  and  unknown  sensations. 
He  rolled  in  purple  and  bathed  in  gold. 

But  he  knew  how  to  appear  unmoved.  His  face  had 
contracted  the  habit  of  guarding  the  secret  of  the  most 
violent  inner  excitement.  While  all  his  passions  vi- 
brated within  him,  he  listened  apparently  with  a  sad 
and  almost  indifferent  coldness." 

"  Permit  me,"  he  said  to  the  count,  "  without  over- 
stepping the  bounds  of  the  utmost  respect,  to  say  a  few 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  281 

words.  I  am  touched  more  than  I  can  express  by  your 
goodness ;  and  yet,  I  beseech  you,  to  delay  its  manifes- 
tation. The  proposition  I  am  about  to  suggest  may 
perhaps  appear  to  you  worthy  of  consideration.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  situation  demands  the  greatest 
delicacy.  It  is  well  to  despise  public  opinion,  but  not 
to  defy  it.  I  am  certain  to  be  judged  with  the  utmost 
severity.  If  I  instal  myself  so  suddenly  in  your  house, 
what  will  they  not  say  ?  I  shall  have  the  appearance  of 
a  conqueror,  who  thinks  little,  in  attaining  his  purpose, 
of  passing  over  the  bodies  of  the  conquered.  They  will 
reproach  me  with  occupying  the  bed  still  warm  from 
Albert's  body.  They  will  rail  bitterly  at  my  haste  in 
taking  possession.  They  will  certainly  compare  me 
to  Albert;  and  the  comparison  will  be  to  my  disadvan- 
tage, because  I  seem  to  triumph  at  a  time  when  a  great 
disaster  has  fallen  upon  our  house." 

The  count  listened  without  marked  disapproval, 
struck  perhaps  by  the  justice  of  his  reasons. 

Noel  imagined  that  his  hardness  was  much  more 
feigned  than  real ;  and  this  idea  encouraged  him. 

"  I  beseech  you  then,  monsieur,"  he  continued,  "  to 
permit  me  for  the  present  in  no  way  to  change  my  mode 
of  living.  By  not  showing  myself,  I  leave  all  malicious 
remarks  to  waste  themselves  in  air, — I  let  public  opin- 
ion the  better  familiarize  itself  with  the  idea  of  a  coming 
change.  There  is  a  great  deal  in  not  taking  the  world 
by  surprise.  By  waiting,  I  shall  not  have  the  air  of  an 
intruder  on  presenting  myself.  Absent,  I  shall  have 
the  advantages  which  the  unknown  always  possess, — 
I  shall  draw  to  myself  the  good  opinion  of  all  those 
who  have  envied  Albert,  I  shall  obtain  as  defenders  all 
those  servants  who  would  to-morrow  assail  me,  if  my 
elevation  came  suddenly  upon  them.  Besides,  by  this 


282  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

delay,  I  should  accustom  myself  to  my  abrupt  change 
of  fortune.  I  ought  not  to  bring  into  your  world,  which 
is  now  mine,  the  manners  of  a  parvenu.  My  name 
ought  not  to  incommode  me,  like  an  ill-made  coat.  And, 
by  thus  acting,  it  will  be  possible  for  me  to  rectify,  at 
home  and  without  noise,  the  mistakes  of  my  early  edu- 
cation." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  the  wisest,"  murmured  the 
count. 

This  assent,  so  easily  obtained,  surprised  Noel.  He 
got  the  idea  that  the  count  had  only  wished  to  prove 
him,  to  test  him.  In  any  case,  whether  he  had  tri- 
umphed by  his  eloquence,  or  whether  he  had  simply 
shunned  a  trap,  he  had  triumphed.  His  boldness  in- 
creased ;  he  determined  to  make  himself  master  in  every 
way. 

"  I  must  add,  monsieur,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  have 
certain  changes  to  bring  about  in  myself.  Before  en- 
tering upon  duties  in  my  new  life,  I  ought  to  finish  those 
in  my  old.  I  have  friends  and  clients.  This  event  has 
surprised  me,  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  reap  the  re- 
ward of  ten  years  of  hard  work  and  perseverance.  I  had 
yet  only  sown ;  I  was  on  the  point  of  gathering  in  my 
harvest.  My  name  was  already  rising.  I  had  obtained 
some  little  influence.  I  confess,  without  shame,  that  I 
have  heretofore  professed  ideas  and  opinions  that  would 
not  be  suited  to  this  house ;  and  it  would  be  impossible 
to-day  or  to-morrow  for  —  " 

"  Ah !  "  interrupted  the  count  in  a  bantering  tone, 
"  you  were  a  liberal.  It  is  a  fashionable  disease.  Al- 
bert was  a  great  liberal." 

"  My  ideas,  monsieur,"  said  Noel  eagerly,  "  were 
those  of  every  intelligent  man  who  wishes  to  rise.  Be- 
sides, have  not  all  parties  one  and  the  same  aim — 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  283 

power?  They  merely  take  different  means  of  reaching 
it.  I  will  not  enlarge  upon  this  subject.  Be  assured, 
monsieur,  that  I  will  respect  my  name,  and  think  and 
act  as  a  man  of  my  rank  should." 

"  I  trust  so,"  said  M.  de  Commarin ;  "  and  I  hope 
that  you  will  never  make  me  regret  Albert." 

"  At  least,  monsieur,  it  will  not  be  my  fault.  But 
since  you  have  mentioned  the  name  of  that  unfortunate 
young  man,  let  us  speak  of  him." 

The  count  cast  a  look  of  defiance  upon  Noel. 

"  What  can  now.  be  done  for  Albert  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  What,  monsieur !  "  cried  Noel  with  ardor,  "  would 
you  abandon  him,  when  he  has  not  a  friend  left  in  the 
world  ?  He  is  still  your  son,  monsieur ;  he  is  my  brother. 
For  thirty  years  he  has  borne  the  name  of  Commarin. 
All  the  members  of  a  family  are  one.  Innocent,  or 
guilty,  he  has  a  right  to  count  upon  us ;  and  we  owe  him 
our  assistance." 

This  was  another  of  those  sentiments  which  the  count 
recognized  as  Albert's;  and  this  second  one  again 
touched  him. 

"  What  do  you  then  hope  for,  monsieur?  "  he  asked. 

"  To  save  him,  if  he  is  innocent ;  and  I  love  to  believe 
that  he  is.  I  am  an  advocate,  monsieur ;  and  I  wish  to 
defend  him.  I  have  been  told  that  I  have  considerable 
talent;  in  such  a  cause,  I  must  have.  Yes,  however 
strong  the  charges  against  him  may  be,  I  will  over- 
throw them.  I  will  dispel  all  doubts.  The  truth  shall 
burst  forth  through  my  voice.  I  will  find  new  accents  to 
imbue  the  judges  with  my  conviction.  I  will  save  him ; 
and  this  shall  be  my  last  cause." 

"  And  if  he  should  confess,"  said  the  count,  "  if  he 
should  confess  ?  " 

"  Then  monsieur,"  replied  Noel  with  a  dark  look,  "  I 


284  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

will  render  him  the  last  service,  which  in  such  a  misfor- 
tune I  should  ask  of  a  brother, — the  means  of  avoiding 
judgment." 

"  That  is  w.ell  said,  monsieur,"  said  the  count, — 
"  very  well,  my  son." 

And  he  extended  his  hand  to  Noel,  who  pressed  it, 
bowing  with  a  respectful  acknowledgment. 

The  advocate  breathed  again.  At  last  he  had  found 
the  way  to  the  heart  of  this  haughty  noble ;  he  had  con- 
quered, he  had  pleased  him. 

"  Let  us  return  to  ourselves,"  continued  the  count. 
"  I  yield  to  the  reasons  which  you  have  suggested.  But 
do  not  consider  this  a  precedent.  I  never  retire  from  a 
plan  once  undertaken,  unless  it  is  proved  to  me  to  be 
bad,  and  contrary  to  my  interests.  But  at  least  nothing 
need  prevent  your  remaining  here  to-day,  and  dining 
with  me.  We  will,  in  the  first  place,  see  where  you  can 
lodge  until  you  formally  take  possession  of  the  apart- 
ments which  are  to  be  prepared  for  you." 

Noel  ventured  to  interrupt  the  old  gentleman  again. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  he,  "  when  you  bade  me  follow  you 
here,  I  obeyed  you,  as  was  my  duty.  Now  another  and  a 
sacred  duty  calls  me  away.  Madame  Gerdy  is  at  this 
moment  expiring.  Ought  I  to  leave  the  death-bed  of 
her  who  filled  my  mother's  place  ?  " 

"  Valerie !  "  murmured  the  count. 

He  leaned  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair,  his  face  buried 
in  his  hands ;  in  one  moment  the  whole  past  rose  up  be- 
fore him. 

"  She  has  done  me  great  harm,"  he  murmured,  as  if 
answering  his  thoughts.  "  She  has  ruined  my  whole 
life;  but  ought  I  to  be  implacable?  She  is  dying  from 
the  accusation  which  is  hanging  over  our  son,  Albert. 
It  was  I  who  was  the  cause  of  it  all.  Doubtless,  in  this 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  285 

last  hour,  a  word  from  me  would  be  a  great  consolation 
to  her.  I  will  accompany  you,  monsieur." 

Noel  started  at  this  unexpected  proposition. 

"  O  monsieur ! "  said  he  hastily,  "  spare  yourself,  pray, 
a  heart-rending  sight.  Your  going  would  be  useless, 
Madame  Gerdy  probably  yet  exists;  but  her  mind  is 
dead.  Her  brain  was  unable  to  resist  so  violent  a  shock. 
The  unfortunate  woman  would  neither  recognize  nor 
understand  you." 

"  Go  then  alone,"  sighed  the  count, — "  go,  my  son." 

The  words  "  my  son,"  pronounced  with  a  marked  em- 
phasis, sounded  like  a  note  of  victory  in  Noel's  ears, 
which  only  his  studied  reserve  concealed. 

He  bowed  to  take  his  leave.  The  old  gentleman  signed 
him  to  stay. 

"  In  any  event,"  he  said,  "  a  place  at  table  will  be  set 
for  you  here.  I  dine  at  precisely  half-past  six.  I  shall 
be  glad  to  see  you." 

He  rang.  Monsieur  le  premier  appeared.  "  Denis," 
said  he,  "  none  of  the  orders  I  have  given  will  affect  this 
gentleman.  You  will  tell  this  to  all  the  servants.  This 
gentleman  is  at  home  here." 

The  advocate  took  his  leave ;  and  the  count  felt  great 
comfort  in  being  once  more  alone. 

Since  morning,  events  had  followed  one  another  with 
such  bewildering  rapidity  that  his  thoughts  could 
scarcely  keep  pace  with  them.  At  last,  he  was  able  to 
reflect. 

"  There,  then,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  is  my  legitimate 
son.  I  am  sure  of  his  birth,  at  any  rate.  Truly  it  would 
be  with  a  bad  grace,  were  I  to  deny  him.  I  find  him  an 
exact  picture  of  myself  at  thirty.  He  is  a  fine  fellow, 
this  Noel,  very  fine.  His  features  are  decidedly  in  his 
favor.  He  is  intelligent  and  acute.  He  knows  how  to 


286  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

be  humble  without  lowering  himself,  firm  without  arro- 
gance. His  new  and  unexpected  fortune  does  not  make 
him  giddy.  I  augur  well  of  a  man  who  knows  how  to 
bear  himself  in  prosperity.  He  thinks  well.  He  will 
carry  his  title  proudly.  And  yet  I  feel  no  sympathy 
with  him;  it  seems  to  me  that  I  shall  regret  my  poor 
Albert.  I  never  knew  how  to  appreciate  him.  Un- 
happy boy!  To  commit  a  dreadful  crime!  He  must 
have  lost  his  reason.  I  do  not  like  the  sight  of  this  one : 
he  is  too  clever.  They  say  that  he  is  perfect.  He  ex- 
presses, at  least,  the  noblest  and  most  appropriate  sen- 
timents. He  is  kind  and  brave,  magnanimous,  gener- 
ous, heroic.  He  is  without  malice,  and  is  ready  to  sacri- 
fice himself  to  repay  me  for  what  I  have  done  for  him. 
He  forgives  Madame  Gerdy;  he  loves  Albert.  That 
makes  me  distrust  him.  But  all  young  men  nowadays 
are  so.  Ah !  we  live  in  a  happy  age.  Our  children  are 
born  free  from  all  human  mistakes.  They  have  none  of 
the  vices,  passions,  nor  prejudices  of  their  fathers ;  and 
these  precocious  philosophers,  models  of  sagacity  and 
virtue,  are  incapable  of  committing  the  least  folly.  Alas ! 
Albert,  too,  was  perfect ;  and  he  has  assassinated  Clau- 
dine !  That  might  imply, — but  what  matters  it  ?  "  he 
added,  half  aloud.  "  I  wish  I  had  gone  to  see  Valerie !  " 

And  although  the  advocate  had  been  gone  at  least 
ten  good  minutes,  M.  de  Commarin,  not  realizing  how 
time  had  passed,  hastened  to  the  window,  in  the  hope 
of  seeing  Noel  in  the  yard,  and  hailing  him. 

But  Noel  had  already  gone.  On  leaving  the  house, 
he  had  taken  a  cab  as  far  as  the  Rue  Bourgoyne,  and 
from  thence  to  the  Rue  St.  Lazare. 

Arrived  at  his  own  door,  he  threw  rather  than  gave 
five  francs  to  the  driver,  and  ran  rapidly  up  to  the  fourth 
story. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  287 

"  Who  has  called  upon  me  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  maid. 

"  No  one,  monsieur." 

He  seemed  relieved  from  a  great  anxiety,  and  spoke 
again  in  a  calmer  tone. 

"And  the  doctor?" 

"  He  came  this  morning,"  replied  the  maid,  "  while 
you  were  away;  and  he  did  not  seem  at  all  confident. 
He  has  returned  every  hour,  and  is  now  here." 

"  Very  well.  I  am  going  in  to  speak  to  him.  If  any 
one  calls,  show  them  into  my  study,  and  call  me." 

While  entering  Madame  Gerdy's  chamber,  Noel  won- 
dered how  he  could  discover  whether  any  one  had  been 
in  during  his  absence. 

The  sick  woman,  her  eyes  fixed,  her  face  convulsed, 
lay  extended  upon  her  back. 

She  seemed  dead,  save  for  suden  starts,  which  at  in- 
tervals shook  her  and  disturbed  the  bedclothes. 

Above  her  head  was  placed  a  little  vessel,  filled  with 
ice  water,  which  fell  drop  by  drop  upon  her  face  and 
upon  her  forehead,  covered  with  large  bluish  spots. 

The  table  and  mantel  were  laden  with  little  pots,  orna- 
mented with  strings  of  roses,  vials  for  medicines,  and 
half-emptied  glasses. 

At  the  foot  of  the  bed,  a  piece  of  linen  stained  with 
blood  showed  that  they  had  been  using  leeches. 

Near  the  fireplace,  where  burned  a  large  fire,  a  nun 
of  the  order  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  was  crouching, 
watching  a  kettle  boil. 

She  was  a  woman  still  young,  her  face  whiter  than 
her  skirt.  Her  features  were  immovably  placid,  her  look 
mournful,  betraying  the  renunciation  of  the  flesh,  and 
the  abdication  of  all  independence  of  thought. 

Her  dress  of  gray  hung  from  her  in  large  ungraceful 
folds.  At  her  every  motion,  her  large  bead-roll  of  dyed 


288  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

box-wood,  weighed  down  by  a  cross  and  copper  medals, 
was  shaken,  and  dragged  on  the  ground  with  a  noise 
like  a  chain. 

Upon  a  chair  opposite  the  bed  Dr  Herve  sat,  follow- 
ing apparently  with  close  attention  the  sister's  prepara- 
tions. He  raised  himself  eagerly,  as  Noel  entered. 

"  At  last  you  are  here,"  he  said,  giving  his  friend  a 
strong  grasp  of  the  hand. 

"  I  was  detained  at  the  palais,"  said  the  advocate,  as 
if  he  felt  the  necessity  of  explaining  his  absence ;  "  and 
I  have  been,  as  you  may  well  imagine,  dreadfully 
anxious." 

He  bent  down  to  the  doctor's  ear,  and,  with  his  voice 
trembling  with  anxiety,  asked, — 

"Well?" 

The  doctor  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  deep  dis- 
couragement. 

"  She  is  much  worse,"  he  replied ;  "  since  morning, 
bad  symptoms  have  succeeded  each  other  with  frightful 
rapidity." 

He  checked  himself.  The  advocate  seized  his  arm, 
and  pinched  it.  Madame  Gerdy  had  stirred  a  little,  and 
let  a  feeble  groan  escape  her. 

"  She  understood  you,"  murmured  Noel. 

"  I  wish  it  were  so,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  it  would  be 
most  encouraging.  But  you  are  mistaken.  However, 
go  to  her." 

He  approached  Madame  Gerdy,  and  taking  her  pulse, 
examined  it  carefully;  then,  with  the  end  of  his  finger, 
he  lightly  raised  the  eyelid. 

The  eye  appeared  dull,  glassy,  lifeless. 

"  Come,  judge  for  yourself ;  take  her  hand,  speak  to 
her." 

Noel,  trembling  all  over,  obeyed  his  friend.    He  ad- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  289 

vanced,  and,  leaning  on  the  bed  so  that  his  mouth  al- 
most touched  her  ear,  he  murmured, — 

"  Mother,  it  is  I, — Noel, — your  own  Noel.  Speak 
to  me,  make  some  sign,  if  you  know  me,  mother." 

It  was  in  vain ;  she  retained  her  frightful  immobility. 
Not  a  sign  of  intelligence  crossed  her  features. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  told  you  the  truth." 

"  Poor  woman !  "  sighed  Noel,  "  does  she  suffer  ?  " 

"  Not  now." 

The  nun  now  rose ;  and  she  too  came  near  the  bed. 

"  Doctor,"  said  she,  "  it  is  all  ready." 

"  Then  call  the  maid,  sister,  to  help  us.  We  are  going 
to  apply  a  mustard  poultice." 

The  servant  hastened  in.  In  the  arms  of  the  tw.o 
women,  Madame  Gerdy  was  like  a  corpse,  whose  last 
toilet  they  were  making.  She  was  rigid  as  though  she 
were  dead.  She  must  have  suffered  much  and  long, 
poor  woman !  for  it  was  pitiable  to  see  how  thin  she  was. 
The  nun  herself  was  affected,  although  she  had  become 
habituated  to  the  sight  of  suffering.  How  many  sick 
people  had  breathed  their  last  in  her  arms  during  the 
fifteen  years  that  she  had  gone  from  pillow  to  pillow ! 

Noel,  during  this  time,  had  retired  into  the  recess  of 
the  window,  and  pressed  his  burning  brow  against  the 
panes. 

Of  what  was  he  thinking,  while  she  was  dying  a  few 
paces  from  him, — she  who  had  given  him  so  many 
proofs  of  maternal  tenderness  and  devotion?  Did  he 
regret  her?  Did  he  not  think  rather  of  the  grand  and 
magnificent  existence  which  was  awaiting  him  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  at  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain? 
He  turned  abruptly  about,  upon  hearing  the  voice  of  his 
friend. 

"  It  is  done,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  we  have  only  now 


290  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

to  wait  the  effect  of  the  mustard.    If  she  feels  it,  it  will 
be  a  good  sign ;  if  it  has  no  effect,  we  will  try  cupping." 

"And  if  she  never  stirs?" 

The  doctor  answered  only  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders, which  showed  his  feeling  of  absolute  powerless- 
ness. 

"  I  understand  your  silence,  Herve,"  murmured  Noel. 
"  Alas !  you  fear  that  to-night  she  is  lost." 

"  Scientifically,  yes ;  but  I  do  not  yet  despair.  It  was 
hardly  a  year  ago  that  the  grandfather  of  one  of  our 
comrades  was  saved  in  an  almost  identical  case;  and  I 
have  seen  worse  cases  than  this, — where  suppuration 
had  commenced." 

"  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  her  in  that  state.  Must 
she  die  without  recovering  her  reason  for  one  moment? 
Will  she  not  recognize  me,  speak  one  word  to  me  ?  " 

"  Who  knows  ?  This  disease,  my  poor  friend !  baffles 
all  foresight.  Each  moment,  the  aspect  may  change, 
according  as  the  inflammation  affects  such  or  such  a  part 
of  the  encephalic  mass.  She  is  now  in  a  state  of  utter 
insensibility,  of  the  destruction  of  all  her  intellectual 
faculties,  of  drowsiness,  of  paralysis ;  to-morrow,  she 
may  be  taken  with  convulsions,  accompanied  with  a 
lightness  of  the  brain,  a  fierce  delirium." 

"  And  will  she  speak  then  ?  " 

"  Without  doubt ;  but  that  will  not  change  either  the 
nature  or  the  gravity  of  the  disease." 

"  And  will  she  recover  her  reason  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  answered  the  doctor,  looking  fixedly  at 
his  friend ;  "  but  why  do  you  ask  that?  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Herve,  one  word  from  Madame  Gerdy, 
— only  one,  would  be  of  such  use  to  me !  " 

"  In  your  affairs,  eh  ?  Well,  I  can  tell  you  nothing, 
can  promise  you  nothing.  You  have  chances  in  your 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  291 

favor,  and  chances  against  you;  only  do  not  be  far 
away.  If  her  intelligence  returns,  it  will  be  only  by 
flashes ;  try  and  profit  by  them.  But  I  must  go,"  added 
the  doctor :  "  I  have  still  three  visits  to  make." 

Noel  followed  his  friend.  When  he  reached  the  stair- 
case,— 

"  You  will  return  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  This  evening,  at  nine.  There  is  no  need  of  me  at 
present.  All  depends  upon  the  watcher.  But  I  have 
chosen  a  pearl.  I  know  her  well." 

"  It  was  you,  then,  who  brought  this  nun  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  your  permission.    Are  you  displeased  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.    Only,  I  confess —  " 

"What?  you  make  a  face.  Perhaps  you  object  to 
having  your  mother  nursed  by  a  daughter  of  St.  Vin- 
cent?" 

"  My  dear  Herve,  you — " 

"  Well,  I  agree  with  you  entirely.  They  are  adroit, 
insinuating,  dangerous,  I  know.  If  I  had  an  old  uncle, 
whose  heir  I  expected  to  be,  I  shouldn't  bring  one  of 
these  into  my  house.  These  good  daughters  are  some- 
times charged  with  strange  commissions.  But  what  is 
there  to  fear  now  ?  Let  them  speak  their  foolish  words. 
Money  aside,  these  good  sisters  are  the  best  nurses  in 
the  world.  I  hope  you  will  have  one  on  your  death-bed. 
But  good-by ;  I  am  in  a  hurry." 

So,  regardless  of  his  professional  dignity,  the  doctor 
jumped  down  the  stairs ;  while  Noel,  thoughtful,  his  face 
charged  with  anxiety,  went  back  into  Madame  Gerdy's 
room. 

Upon  the  threshold  of  the  sick-room,  the  nun  awaited 
the  advocate's  return. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  she,  "  monsieur." 

"  You  want  something  of  me,  sister?  " 


292  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Monsieur,  the  maid  bade  me  come  to  you  for  money ; 
she  has  no  more,  and  had  to  get  credit  at  the  apothe- 
cary's." 

"Excuse  me,  sister,"  interrupted  Noel  in  no  very 
eager  tone, — "  excuse  me  for  not  having  anticipated 
your  request ;  but  you  see  I  am  a  little  confused." 

And,  taking  out  a  hundred  franc  note,  he  laid  it  on 
the  mantel. 

"Thanks,  monsieur,"  said  the  sister;  "I  will  keep 
account  of  all  expenses.  We  always  do  this, ' '  she  added ; 
"it  is  more  convenient  for  the  family,  —  one  is  so 
troubled  at  seeing  one  we  love  sick.  You  have  perhaps 
not  thought  of  giving  this  poor  lady  the  sweet  aid  of  our 
beloved  religion  ?  In  your  place,  monsieur,  I  should 
send  without  delay  for  a  priest, — " 

"Why,  sister,  you  see  the  condition  she  is  in!  She 
is  the  same  as  dead  ;  you  saw  that  she  did  not  heed  my 
voice." 

"That  is  of  little  consequence,  monsieur,"  replied  the 
sister:  "you  ought  always  to  do  your  duty.  She  did 
not  reply  to  you ;  but  are  you  sure  that  she  would  not 
reply  to  a  priest?  Ah,  you  do  not  understand  all  the 
power  of  the  last  rites  !  I  have  seen  even  the  dying  re- 
vive their  intelligence  and  strength  to  make  confes- 
sion, and  to  receive  the  sacred  body  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  I  have  often  heard  families  say,  that  they  did 
not  wish  to  frighten  their  sick  fiiend, — that  the  sight 
of  the  minister  of  our  Lord  would  inspire  a  terror  that 
would  hasten  the  final  end.  It  is  a  grievous  error.  The 
priest  does  not  terrify ;  he  reassures  the  soul,  at  the 
beginning  of  its  long  journey.  He  speaks  in.  the  name 
of  the  God  of  mercy,  who  comes  to  save,  not  to  destroy. 
I  could  cite  to  you  many  cases  of  dying  people  who  have 
been  cured  simply  by  contact  with  the  sacred  balm. ' ' 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  293 

The  good  sister  spoke  in  a  tone  mournful  as  her  look. 
Her  heart  was  evidently  not  in  the  words  she  pronounced. 
Without  doubt,  she  had  learned  them  when  she  first 
entered  the  convent.  Then  they  expressed  something 
she  really  felt, — she  spoke  her  own  thoughts ;  but,  since 
then,  she  had  repeated  the  words  over  and  over  again 
to  the  friends  of  every  sick  person,  until  they  lost  all 
meaning.  It  was  thereafter  only  a  succession  of  hack- 
neyed words,  which  she  spoke  much  as  she  did  the  Latin 
words  in  her  rosary.  It  became  simply  a  part  of  her 
duties  as  nurse,  like  the  preparation  of  draughts,  and 
the  making  of  poultices. 

Noel  did  not  listen  to  her ;  his  thoughts  were  far  away. 

"  Your  dear  mother,"  continued  the  sister,  "  this  good 
lady  that  you  love  so  much,  ought  to  have  the  aid  of  her 
religion.  Do  you  wish  to  endanger  her  soul?  If  she 
could  speak  in  the  midst  of  these  cruel  sufferings — " 

The  advocate  was  on  the  point  of  replying,  when  the 
servant  announced  that  a  gentleman,  who  would  not 
give  his  name,  wished  to  speak  with  him  on  business. 

"  I  will  come,"  he  said  quickly. 

"  What  do  you  decide,  monsieur  ?  "  persisted  the  nun. 

"  I  leave  you  free,  sister,  to  do  as  you  may  judge 
best." 

The  wprthy  woman  began  to  recite  her  lesson  of 
thanks  but  uselessly.  Noel  had  disappeared  with  a  dis- 
pleased look;  and  almost  immediately  she  heard  his 
voice  in  the  next  room,  saying, — 

"  Ah,  Clergeot,  I  had  almost  given  up  seeing  you !  " 

The  visitor,  who  awaited  the  advocate,  was  a  person 
well  known  in  the  Rue  St.  Lazare,  from  Rue  Provence 
to  the  quarters  of  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette,  and  all  along 
the  outer  boulevards,  from  the  embankment  of  Martyrs 
to  the  cross-roads  at  Clichy. 


294  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Clergeot  was  no  more  a  usurer -than  the  father  of 
M.  Jourdain  was  a  merchant.  Only  having  more  money 
than  he  could  very  well  use,  he  lent  it  to  his  friends; 
and,  in  return  for  this  kindness,  he  consented  to  receive 
interest,  which  varied  from  twenty  to  thirty  per  cent. 

The  excellent  man  positively  enjoyed  the  practice ; 
and  his  honesty  was  generally  appreciated.  He  was 
never  known  to  arrest  a  debtor ;  he  preferred  to  follow 
him  without  relaxation  or  intermission  for  ten  years, 
and  drag  from  him  bit  by  bit  what  was  due  him. 

He  lived  near  the  top  of  the  Rue  Victoire.  He  had  no 
shop;  and  yet  he  sold  everything  salable,  and  some 
other  things,  too,  that  the  law  scarcely  considers  mer- 
chandise,— any  thing  to  be  useful  or  neighborly.  He 
often  asserted  that  he  was  not  rich.  It  was  possibly 
true.  He  was  odd,  very  covetous,  and  fearfully  bold. 
Light  in  purse  when  it  suited  him,  he  would  not  lend 
a  hundred  sous,  even  with  the  Ferriere's  guarantee,  to 
those  who  did  not  please  him ;  but  he  would  risk  his  all 
on  the  smallest  chance  at  cards. 

His  preferred  customers  consisted  of  young  girls, 
actresses,  artists,  and  those  venturesome  fellows  who 
enter  upon  a  profession  worth  only  what  they  can  earn, 
such  as  advocates  and  doctors. 

He  lent  to  women  upon  their  present  beauty,  to  men 
upon  their  future  talent.  Slight  pledges !  His  sagacity, 
it  should  be  said,  however,  enjoyed  a  great  reputation. 
It  was  rarely  deceived.  A  girl  of  the  town,  furnished 
by  Clergeot,  had  a  great  start  in  the  world.  For  an 
actress  to  be  in  Clergeot's  debt  was  a  recommendation 
preferable  to  the  warmest  criticism. 

Madame  Juliette  had  procured  this  useful  and  hon- 
orable alliance  for  her  lover. 

Noel,  who  knew  well  how  sensitive  this  worthy  man 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  295 

was  to  kind  attentions,  and  how  pleased  by  politeness, 
began  by  offering  him  a  seat,  and  asking  after  his  health. 
Clergeot  gave  details.  His  teeth  were  still  good;  but 
his  sight  was  beginning  to  fail.  His  leg  was  growing 
soft,  and  his  ear  hard.  The  chapter  of  grievances  ended, 
"  you  know,"  he  said,  "  why  I  have  come.  Your  notes 
fall  due  to-day ;  and  I  am  in  devilish  need  of  money.  I 
have  one  of  ten,  one  of  seven,  and  a  third  of  five  thou- 
sand francs:  total,  twenty-two  thousand  francs." 

"  Ah,  Clergeot,"  replied  Noel,  "  not  a  bad  joke,  this !  " 

"  Joke?  "  said  the  usurer ;  "  I  am  not  joking  at  all." 

"  I  hope  you  are.  Why,  it's  just  eight  days  to-day 
since  I  wrote  to  tell  you  that  I  could  not  be  ready,  and 
asking  for  a  renewal !  " 

"  I  remember  perfectly  receiving  your  letter." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  it,  then  ?  " 

"  By.my  not  answering  the  note,  I  supposed  that  you 
would  understand  that  I  could  not  comply  with  your 
request.  I  trust  that  you  will  exert  yourself  to  find  the 
amount  for  me." 

Noel  let  a  gesture  of  impatience  escape  him. 

"  I  cannot  do  it,"  he  said ;  "  so  take  your  own  course. 
I  haven't  a  sou." 

"  The  devil !  Do  you  know  that  I  have  renewed  these 
notes  four  times  already  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  the  interest  has  been  fully  and  promptly 
paid,  and  at  a  rate  which  need  not  make  you  regret  the 
investment." 

Clergeot  never  liked  to  talk  about  the  interest  he  re- 
ceived. 

He  pretended  that  it  was  humiliating. 

"  I  do  not  complain ;  I  only  say  that  you  take  things 
too  easily  with  me.  If  I  had  put  your  signature  in  cir- 
culation, it  would  be  paid  the  moment  it  came  due." 


296  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Yes,  your  pride  would  not  bear  trifling ;  and  you 
would  have  found  means  to  shun  a  suit.  But  you  say, 
'  Father  Clergeot  is  a  good  fellow :  he  is  trustworthy.' 
But  I  am  so  only  when  it  can  do  me  no  harm.  Now, 
to-day,  I  am  in  great  need  of  funds, — in  —  great  — 
need,"  he  added,  emphasizing  each  word. 

The  old  fellow's  decided  tone  seemed  to  disturb  the 
advocate. 

"Must  I  repeat  it?"  he  said;  "I  am  completely 
drained  — com  —  plete  —  ly !  " 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  the  usurer ;  "  well,  I  am  sorry  for 
you ;  but  I  shall  have  to  put  the  papers  in  the  sheriff's 
hands." 

"  To  what  end  ?  Let  us  play  our  cards  out,  Monsieur 
Clergeot.  You  expect  to  increase  the  sheriff's  revenue. 
Is  it  not  so?  After  you  have  been  to  all  the  expense, 
you  may  perhaps  recover  a  centime.  You  will  get  judg- 
ment against  me.  Well,  what  then?  Do  you  think  of 
attaching  ?  This  is  not  my  house ;  the  lease  is  in  Mad- 
ame Gerdy's  name." 

"  I  know  all  that.  Besides,  the  sale  of  every  thing 
here  would  not  cover  the  amount." 

"  Then  you  count  upon  dragging  me  to  Clichy !  Bad 
speculation,  I  warn  you :  you  will  not  only  lose  what  I 
owe  you,  but  much  more  beside." 

"  Good !  "  cried  the  honest  pawnbroker.  "  How  you 
abuse  me !  You  call  that  being  frank.  Pshaw  !  if  you 
supposed  me  capable  of  half  the  malicious  things  you 
have  said,  my  money  would  be  there  in  your  drawer, 
ready  for  me." 

"  A  mistake !  I  should  not  know  where  to  get  it,  un- 
less by  asking  Madame  Gerdy, —  a  thing  I  would  never 
do." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  297 

A  sarcastic  and  most  irritating  little  laugh,  peculiar 
to  Pere  Clergeot  interrupted  Noel. 

"  There  would  be  simply  the  trouble  of  asking,"  said 
the  usurer :  "  mamma's  purse  has  long  been  empty ;  and 
if  the  dear  creature  should  die  now,  —  they  tell  me  she 
is  very  ill, — I  would  not  give  two  hundred  louis  for  the 
inheritance." 

The  advocate  flushed :  his  eyes  glittered ;  but  he  dis- 
sembled, and  protested  with  some  spirit. 

"  We  know  what  we  know,"  continued  Clergeot  qui- 
etly. "  Before  a  man  risks  his  all,  he  takes  pains  to  in- 
quire into  his  chances.  Mamma's  last  money  was 
poured  out  in  October  last.  Ah !  the  Rue  Provence  is 
an  expensive  place !  I  have  made  an  estimate,  which  is 
at  home.  Juliette  is  a  charming  woman,  to  be  sure: 
she  has  not  her  equal,  I  am  convinced ;  but  she  is  expen- 
sive, devilish  expensive." 

Noel  was  enraged  at  hearing  his  Juliette  thus  spoken 
of  by  this  honorable  personage.  But  what  reply  could 
he  make  ?  Besides,  none  of  us  are  perfect ;  and  Cler- 
geot's  fault  was  in  not  properly  appreciating  women, 
which  doubtless  arose  from  the  business  transactions 
he  had  had  with  them.  He  was  charming  in  his  busi- 
ness with  the  fair  sex,  complimenting  and  flattering 
them ;  but  the  greatest  injuries  would  be  less  revolting 
than  this  impertinent  familiarity. 

"  You  have  gone  too  fast,"  he  continued,  without 
deigning  to  notice  his  customer's  look ;  "  and  I  have  told 
you  so  before.  But,  pshaw !  you  are  wild  over  the  girl. 
You  cannot  refuse  her  any  thing.  Fool !  When  a  pretty 
girl  wants  any  thing,  you  should  let  her  teaze  for  it  a 
long  time;  it  gives  her  something  to  occupy  her  mind, 
and  keeps  her  from  thinking  of  a  quantity  of  other 
follies.  Four  real  strong  wishes,  well  managed,  ought 


298  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

to  last  a  year.  You  don't  know  how  to  look  after  your 
own  interests.  I  know  that  her  glance  would  strike 
terror  into  a  stone  saint;  and  she  knows  her  business 
well.  Why,  there  are  not  ten  girls  in  Paris  who  live  in 
such  style!  And  do  you  think  she  will  love  you  any 
the  more  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  When  she  has  ruined  you, 
she'll  leave  you  in  the  lurch." 

Noel  accepted  the  eloquence  of  his  prudent  banker 
something  as  a  man  without  an  umbrella  accepts  a 
shower. 

"  What  is  the  object  of  all  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Simply  that  I  will  not  renew  your  notes.  You  un- 
derstand ?  At  the  moment  they  fall  due,  you  must  hand 
me  the  twenty-two  thousand  francs  in  question.  You 
need  not  frown :  you  will  find  means  to  do  it,  to  prevent 
my  attaching  your  goods, — not  here,  for  that  would  be 
absurd,  but  at  your  little  girl's  house;  who  would 
scarcely  be  pleased,  and  who  won't  hesitate  to  show  her 
displeasure." 

"  But  it  is  her  own  house ;  and  you  have  no  right — " 

"  What  of  that  ?  She  is  the  cause  of  all  this  trouble.  I 
could  well  wait ;  but  she  is  wasting  your  money.  Believe 
me,  you  had  best  parry  the  blow.  I  wish  to  be  paid  now. 
I  won't  give  you  any  further  delay ;  because,  for  three 
months,  you  have  been  living  on  your  last  resources.  It 
won't  do.  You  are  in  one  of  those  conditions  that  must 
be  continued  at  any  price.  You  would  burn  the  wood 
from  your  dying  mother's  bed  to  warm  this  creature's 
feet.  What  has  become  of  the  ten  thousand  francs  that 
you  left  with  her  the  other  evening  ?  Who  knows  what 
you  will  attempt,  to  procure  money  ?  The  idea  of  striv- 
ing to  ward  it  off  fifteen  days,  three  days,  perhaps  but 
a  single  day  more !  Open  your  eyes.  I  know  the  game 
well.  If  you  do  not  leave  Juliette,  you  will  be  ruined. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  299 

Listen  to  a  little  good  advice,  gratis.  You  must  leave 
her,  sooner  or  later,  mustn't  you  ?  Do  it  to-day,  then." 

As  you  see,  our  w.orthy  Clergeot  never  minced  the 
truth  to  his  customers,  when  they  were  not  in  the  right 
path.  If  they  were  displeased,  so  much  the  worse  for 
them:  his  conscience  was  at  rest;  it  was  not  his  affair, 
who  never  did  a  foolish  thing  in  his  life. 

Noel  could  bear  it  no  longer ;  and  his  ill-humor  burst 
forth. 

"  Enough,"  he  cried  decidedly.  "  Do  as  you  please, 
Monsieur  Clergeot,  but  have  done  with  your  advice.  I 
prefer  the  sheriff's  plain  prose.  If  I  have  committed 
imprudences,  I  can  repair  them,  doubtless,  much  to  your 
surprise.  Yes,  Monsieur  Clergeot,  I  can  find  the  twenty- 
two  thousand  francs ;  I  can  have  a  hundred  thousand  to- 
morrow morning,  if  I  see  fit.  It  will  cost  me  the  mere 
trouble  of  asking;  but  I  do  not  see  fit.  My  expenses, 
however  displeasing  to  you,  must  remain  secret  as  here- 
tofore. I  do  not  wish  that  my  embarrassment  should 
be  even  suspected.  I  will  not  relinquish,  for  your  sake, 
the  aim  that  I  have  pursued,  the  very  day  it  is  in  my 
grasp." 

"  He  resists,"  thought  the  usurer ;  "  he  is  less  deeply 
involved  than  I  had  imagined." 

"  So,"  continued  the  advocate,  "  take  your  paper  to 
the  sheriff.  In  eight  days,  I  shall  be  summoned  before 
the  court  of  commerce ;  and  I  shall  ask  for  twenty-five 
days'  delay,  which  the  judges  always  grant  to  an  embar- 
rassed debtor.  Twenty-five  and  eight,  all  the  world 
over,  make  just  thirty-three  days.  That  is  precisely  the 
respite  I  need.  Let  us  resume ;  accept  from  me  a  bill  of 
exchange  for  twenty-four  thousand  francs  in  six  weeks, 
or  go  at  once  for  the  sheriff." 

"  And  in  six  weeks,"  replied  the  usurer,  "  you  will 


300  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

be  in  precisely  the  same  condition  you  are  to-day.  And 
forty-five  days  more  of  Juliette  will  —  " 

"  Monsieur  Clergeot,"  answered  Noel,  "  long  before 
that  time,  my  position  will  be  completely  changed.  But 
I  have  finished,"  he  added  rising ;  "  and  my  time  is  val- 
uable," 

"  One  moment,  you  impatient  fellow,"  interrupted  the 
good-natured  banker,  "  you  said  twenty-four  thousand 
francs  in  forty-five  days  ?  " 

"  Yes.  That  is  about  sixty-five  per  cent, —  pretty  fair 
interest." 

"I  never  cavil  about  interest,"  said  Clergeot ; 
"  but—" 

He  looked  sharply  at  Noel,  rubbing  his  chin  violently, 
a  movement  which  in  him  indicated  intense  brain  work. 

"  Only,"  he  continued,  "  I  should  like  to  know  upon 
what  you  are  counting." 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  you.  You  will  know  it  ere  long, 
in  common  with  all  the  world." 

"  I  have  it,"  cried  Clergeot, — "  I  have  it ;  you  are 
going  to  marry.  You  have  found  an  heiress ;  your  little 
Juliette  told  me  something  of  that  sort  this  morning. 
Ah !  you  are  going  to  marry.  Is  she  pretty  ?  But  what 
matters  it?  She  has  a  full  purse,  eh?  You  wouldn't 
take  her  without  that.  Then  you  will  keep  house  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  so." 

"  That's  right.  Be  discreet.  But  I  can  take  a  hint. 
One  word  more.  Be  careful ;  your  little  girl  has  a  sus- 
picion of  the  truth.  You  are  right;  it  wouldn't  do  to 
be  seeking  money  now.  The  slightest  mis-step  would 
be  sufficient  to  put  your  father-in-law  upon  the  track  of 
your  financial  position;  and  you  would  lose  the  girl. 
Marry,  and  settle  down.  But  conceal  it  from  Juliette; 
or  I  would  not  give  a  hundred  sous  for  your  wedding. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  301 

So  it  is  settled.  Prepare  a  bill  of  exchange  for  twenty- 
four  thousand  francs,  and  I  will  bring  your  notes  to  you 
on  Monday." 

"  You  haven't  them  with  you,  then?  " 

"  No.  And,  to  be  frank  with  you,  I  confess  that, 
knowing  well  I  should  get  nothing  from  you,  I  left  them 
with  others, — with  the  sheriff.  However,  you  may  rest 
easy ;  you  have  my  word." 

Clergeot  made  an  appearance  of  retiring ;  but,  just  as 
he  was  going  out,  he  turned  sharply  around. 

"  I  forgot,"  said  he ;  "  while  you  are  about  it,  you  can 
make  the  bill  for  twenty-six  thousand  francs.  Your 
little  girl  ordered  some  dresses,  which  I  shall  de- 
liver to-morrow :  they  may  as  well  be  paid  in  the  same 
way." 

The  advocate  began  to  remonstrate.  He  would  cer- 
tainly not  refuse  to  pay,  only  he  thought  he  ought  to  be 
consulted  in  the  purchase.  He  didn't  like  this  way  of 
disposing  of  his  money. 

"  What  a  fellow !  "  said  the  usurer,  shrugging  his 
shoulders ;  "  do  you  want  to  make  the  girl  unhappy  ? 
You  must  keep  her  in  good  humor ;  think  how  she  might 
affect  the  marriage.  And  you  know  that,  if  you  need 
any  advances  for  the  wedding,  you  have  but  to  guaran- 
tee me.  Speak  to  your  notary,  and  every  thing  shall  be 
arranged.  But  I  must  go.  On  Monday,  then  ?  " 

Noel  watched,  to  make  sure  that  the  usurer  had  ac- 
tually gone.  When  he  saw  that  he  was  not  lingering  on 
the  staircase,  "  Fool !  "  he  cried,  "  miserable  thieving 
old  skinflint!  He  is  on  the  wrong  track, — the  track, 
however,  that  he  himself  chose  to  pursue.  It  would 
be  a  fine  thing,  if  this  should  get  to  the  count's  ears. 
Miserable  usurer!  I  feared  for  awhile  that  I  should 
have  to  tell  him  all." 


302  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

While  inveighing  thus  against  his  banker,  the  advo- 
cate looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Half-past  five  already,"  he  said. 

His  indecision  was  great.  Should  he  dine  with  his 
father?  Could  he  leave  Madame  Gerdy?  He  longed 
to  dine  at  the  Commarin  house ;  yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  leave  a  dying  woman ! 

"  Decidedly,"  he  said,  "  I  can't  go." 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk,  and  with  all  haste  wrote  a 
letter  of  apology  to  his  father.  Madame  Gerdy,  he 
wrote,  might  breathe  her  last  at  any  moment :  he  must 
remain  within  call. 

After  he  had  bade  the  servant  give  the  note  to  a  mes- 
senger, to  carry  it  to  the  count,  a  sudden  thought  oc- 
curred to  him. 

"  Does  madame's  brother,"  he  asked,  "  know  that 
she  is  dangerously  ill  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  monsieur,"  replied  the  girl ;  "  at  any 
rate,  it  was  not  my  fault." 

"  What,  did  you  not  think  to  inform  him,  in  my  ab- 
sence? Run  to  his  house  quickly.  Have  him  sought 
for,  if  he  is  not  at  home ;  bring  him  here." 

More  tranquil  after  that,  he  went  in  to  sit  in  the  sick 
room.  The  lamp  was  lighted ;  and  the  sister  moved  back 
and  forth,  putting  every  thing  in  place,  dusting  and  ar- 
ranging. She  wore  an  air  of  satisfaction,  that  did  not 
escape  Noel. 

"  Have  we  any  gleam  of  hope,  sister  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  the  nun.  "  The  priest  has  been 
here,  monsieur:  your  dear  mother  did  not  notice  his 
presence ;  but  he  is  coming  back.  That  is  not  all.  Since 
the  priest  was  here,  the  mustard  has  taken  admirably. 
The  skin  is  quite  reddened.  I  am  sure  she  feels." 

"  God  grant  it,  sister !  " 


He  went  in  to  sit  in  the  sick-room.     The  lamp  was  lighted  and  the 
sister  moved  back  and  forth. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  303 

"  Oh,  I  have  already  been  praying !  But  it  is  im- 
portant not  to  leave  her  alone  a  minute.  I  have  ar- 
ranged all  with  the  maid.  When  the  doctor  comes,  I 
shall  lie  down,  and  she  will  watch  until  one  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  will  then  rise  and  —  " 

"  You  may  both  go  and  rest  yourselves,  sister,"  inter- 
rupted Noel.  "  I  shall  not  be  able  to  sleep :  so  I  will 
watch  all  night." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TABARET  did  not  consider  himself  defeated,  because 
he  had  been  repulsed  by  the  judge  of  inquiry,  when  ir- 
ritated by  a  long  day's  examination.  You  may  call  it 
a  fault  or  an  accomplishment ;  but  the  old  man  was  more 
obstinate  than  a  mule.  To  the  excess  of  despair  to  which 
he  succumbed  in  the  gallery,  there  soon  succeeded  that 
firm  resolution  which  upheld  him  in  danger.  The  feel- 
ing of  duty  took  possession  of  him.  Was  that  a  time 
to  yield  to  discouraging  idleness,  when  the  life  of  a 
fellow-man  hung  on  each  moment?  Inaction  would 
be  unpardonable.  He  had  plunged  an  innocent  man 
into  the  abyss;  and  he  must  draw  him  out, — he  alone, 
if  no  one  would  lend  their  aid.  Pere  Tabaret,  as  well 
as  the  judge,  gave  way  to  weariness.  On  reaching  the 
open  air,  he  perceived  that  he,  too,  had  need  of  rest. 
The  emotions  of  the  day  had  prevented  him  from  feel- 
ing hungry ;  and,  since  morning,  he  had  taken  nothing 
but  one  glass  of  water.  He  entered  a  restaurant  on  the 
boulevard,  and  ordered  supper. 

While  he  ate,  not  only  his  courage,  but  his  confidence 
came  insensibly  back  to  him.  It  was  with  him,  as  with 
the  rest  of  the  world :  he  who  does  not  know  how  often 


304  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

the  course  of  his  ideas  may  change,  from  the  beginning 
to  the  end  of  a  repast,  should  be  very  modest.  A  phil- 
osopher has  plainly  demonstrated  that  heroism  is  but  an 
affair  of  the  stomach. 

The  old  fellow,  looked  at  the  situation  in  a  much  less 
sombre  light.  Was  there  not  plenty  of  time  before  him  ? 
What  could  not  such  a  man  as  he  do  in  a  month  ?  Was 
his  usual  penetration  to  fail  him  now?  Certainly  not. 
His  great  regret  was,  his  inability  to  let  Albert  know 
that  some  one  was  working  for  him. 

He  was  entirely  another  man,  upon  leaving  the  table ; 
and  it  was  with  a  cheerful  step  that  he  walked  towards 
the  Rue  St.  Lazare.  Nine  o'clock  sounded,  as  the  por- 
ter opened  the  door  for  him.  He  jumped  up  stairs  four 
steps  at  a  time,  to  receive  news  of  his  old  friend,  of  her 
whom  he  used  formerly  to  call  the  excellent,  the  worthy 
Madame  Gerdy. 

Noel  opened  the  door  to  him, — Noel,  who  had  doubt- 
less been  thinking  of  the  past ;  for  he  looked  as  sad  as 
though  the  dying  woman  was  really  his  mother. 

In  consequence  of  this  unexpected  circumstance,  Pere 
Tabaret  for  a  few  moments  could  not  help  thinking  of 
certain  difficulties  which  he  should  experience. 

He  knew  very  well,  that,  finding  himself  with  the  ad- 
vocate, he  would  be  unavoidably  led  to  speak  of  the 
Lerouge  affair;  and  how  could  he  do  this,  knowing,  as 
he  did,  the  particulars  much  better  than  his  young  friend 
himself,  without  exposing  himself  to  betrayal?  But  a 
single  imprudent  word  would  reveal  the  part  he  was 
playing  in  this  sad  drama.  Now  it  was  from  his  dear 
Noel,  the  future  Viscount  de  Commarin,  above  all 
others,  that  he  wished  entirely  to  conceal  his  connection 
with  the  police. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  thirsted  to  know  what  had 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  305 

passed  between  the  advocate  and  the  count.  The  single 
point  possessed  an  interest  that  aroused  his  curiosity. 
At  last,  as  he  could  not  restrain  its  gratification,  he  re- 
solved to  keep  close  watch  upon  his  language  and  re- 
main constantly  on  his  guard. 

The  advocate  took  the  old  man  into  Madame  Gerdy's 
room.  Her  condition,  since  afternoon,  had  changed 
a  little;  it  was  impossible  to  say  whether  for  good  or 
bad.  One  thing  was  evident,  her  depression  was  less 
profound.  Her  eyes  still  remained  fixed;  but  certain 
quiverings  of  the  lids  were  evident.  She  moved  on  her 
pillow,  and  moaned  feebly. 

"What  does  the  doctor  say?"  asked  Pere  Tabaret, 
in  that  low  whisper  one  unconsciously  takes  in  a  sick 
room. 

"He  is  just  gone,"  replied  Noel;  "before  long  all 
will  be  over." 

The  old  man  advanced  on  tip-toe,  and  looked  at  the 
dying  woman  with  evident  emotion. 

"  Poor  woman !  "  he  murmured ;  "  the  good  God  is 
merciful  in  taking  her.  She  perhaps  suffers  ;  but  what  is 
this  pain,  compared  to  what  she  would  feel  if  she  knew 
that  her  son,  her  true  son,  was  in  prison,  accused  of 
murder  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  keep  repeating  to  myself,"  said  Noel, 
"  to  console  me  for  this  sight ;  for  I  always  loved  her, 
my  old  friend:  for  me,  she  is  still  my  mother.  You 
have  heard  me  upbraid  her,  have  you  not?  I  have 
twice  treated  her  very  harshly.  I  thought  I  hated  her ; 
but  here,  at  the  moment  of  losing  her,  I  forget  every 
wrong  she  has  done  me,  only  to  remember  her  tender- 
ness. Yes,  much  better  death  for  her !  And  yet  I  cannot 
think,  no,  I  cannot  think  her  son  guilty." 

"  What !  is  it  possible,  you,  too?  " 


306  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Pere  Tabaret  put  so  much  warmth  and  vivacity  into 
this  exclamation,  that  Noel  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of 
wonder.  He  felt  the  color  rising  in  his  cheeks,  and  he 
hastened  to  explain  himself.  "  I  said,  '  you,  too,'  "  he 
continued,  "  because  that  I,  thanks  perhaps  to  my  inex- 
perience, am  persuaded  of  the  innocence  of  this  young 
man.  I  cannot  in  the  least  imagine  a  man  of  that  rank 
meditating  and  accomplishing  so  cowardly  a  crime.  I 
have  spoken  with  many  persons  on  this  matter  which  has 
made  so  much  noise ;  and  everybody  is  of  my  opinion. 
He  has  public  opinion  in  his  favor ;  that  is  already  some- 
thing." 

Seated  near  the  bed,  sufficiently  far  from  the  lamp  to 
be  in  the  shadow,  the  nun  hastily  knitted  stockings  des- 
tined for  the  poor.  It  was  a  purely  mechanical  work ; 
during  which  she  usually  prayed.  But,  since  the  en- 
trance of  Pere  Tabaret,  she  forgot,  in  listening,  her  ever- 
lasting prayer.  What  did  this  conversation  mean  ?  Who 
could  this  woman  be?  And  this  young  man  who  was 
not  her  son,  and  who  yet  called  her  mother,  and  at  the 
same  time  spoke  of  a  veritable  son  accused  of  being  an 
assassin  ?  Before  this  she  had  overheard  mysterious  re- 
marks between  Noel  and  the  doctor.  Into  what  singular 
house  had  she  fallen  ?  She  was  a  little  afraid ;  and  her 
conscience  was  sorely  troubled.  Was  she  not  sinning? 
She  resolved  to  tell  all  to  the  priest,  when  he  returned. 

"No,"  said  Noel, — "no,  Tabaret;  Albert  has  not 
public  opinion  with  him.  We  are  sharper  than  that  in 
France,  you  must  know.  When  a  poor  devil  is  ar- 
rested, entirely  innocent,  perhaps,  of  the  crime  charged 
against  him,  we  usually  throw  stones  at  him.  We  keep 
all  our  pity  for  him,  who,  without  doubt  the  criminal, 
comes  before  the  court  oi  assizes.  As  long  as  justice 
hesitates,  we  side  with  the  prosecution  against  the 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  307 

prisoner.  The  moment  she  announces  that  the  man  is 
a  criminal,  all  our  sympathies  are  in  favor  of  acquitting 
him.  That's  public  opinion.  You  understand,  how- 
ever, that  that  affects  me  but  little.  I  despise  it  to  such 
an  extent,  that  if,  as  I  dare  still  hope,  Albert  is  not  re- 
leased, I  will  be  his  defender.  Yes,  I  have  told  my 
father  as  much,  the  Count  de  Commarin.  I  will  be  his 
advocate ;  I  will  save  him." 

Gladly  would  the  old  man  have  thrown  himself  on 
Noel's  neck.  He  longed  to  say  to  him,  "  We  two  will 
save  him."  But  he  restrained  himself.  Would  not 
the  advocate  misunderstand  him,  if  he  confessed?  He 
resolved,  however,  to  reveal  all  if  it  became  necessary, 
and  if  Albert's  interests  took  a  more  dangerous  turn. 
For  the  present,  he  contented  himself  with  strongly 
approving  his  young  friend. 

"  Bravo !  my  child,"  said  he ;  "  you  have  a  noble 
heart.  I  feared  to  see  you  spoiled  by  wealth  and  rank. 
Pardon  me;  you  remain,  I  see,  what  you  have  always 
been  in  your  humble  position.  But,  tell  me,  have  you, 
then,  seen  your  father,  the  count  ?  " 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  Noel  seemed  to  notice  the 
eyes  of  the  sister;  which,  lighted  by  eager  curiosity, 
glittered  in  the  shadow  like  carbuncles.  By  a  look,  he 
pointed  her  out  to  the  old  man,  and  said, — 

"  I  have  seen  him ;  and  every  thing  is  arranged  to 
my  satisfaction.  I  will  tell  you  all,  in  detail,  by-and- 
by,  when  we  are  more  by  ourselves.  By  this  bedside,  I 
almost  blush  at  my  happiness." 

Tabaret  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  this  re- 
ply and  this  promise.  Seeing  that  he  should  learn 
nothing  this  evening,  he  spoke  of  going  to  bed.  declar- 
ing himself  wearied  out,  as  the  result  of  certain  things 
he  had  had  to  do  during  the  day.  Noel  did  not  urge 


3o8  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

his  remaining.  He  himself  was  waiting,  he  said,  for 
Madame  Gerdy's  brother,  who  had  been  sent  for  sev- 
eral times  without  finding  him  in.  He  would  be  much 
embarrassed,  he  added,  in  this  brother's  presence;  he 
did  not  yet  know  what  conduct  he  ought  to  pursue. 
Should  he  tell  him  all?  But  that  would  only  increase 
his  grief.  On  the  other  hand,  silence  obliged  him  to 
play  a  difficult  part.  The  old  man  advised  him  to  keep 
silent,  to  put  off  all  explanation  until  later. 

"  What  a  fine  fellow  is  this  Noel !  "  murmured  Pere 
Tabaret,  on  gaining  his  apartments  as  gently  as  pos- 
sible. 

He  had  been  absent  from  home  twenty-four  hours; 
and  he  had  to  go  through  a  formidable  scene  with  his 
household.  Mannette  was  in  a  particularly  bad  humor: 
so  she  declared  decidedly,  and  once  for  all,  that  she 
would  get  a  new  place,  if  her  master  did  not  change  his 
conduct. 

She  had  remained  awake  all  night,  in  a  terrible 
fright,  listening  to  the  least  sound  on  the  stairway,  ex- 
pecting to  see  her  master  brought  home  on  a  litter,  as- 
sassinated. Then  there  had  been  great  commotion  in 
the  house.  M.  Gerdy  had  gone  out  a  short  time  after 
monsieur,  and  had  returned  two  hours  later.  After  he 
had  come  in,  there  had  been  constant  inquiries  for  the 
doctor.  Such  goings  on  would  be  the  death  of  her, 
without  forgetting  her  temperament,  which  could  not 
endure  these  constant  worries.  But  Mannette  forgot 
that  the  worry  was  not  on  her  master's  account  nor 
on  Noel's  but  for  a  little  affair  of  her  own, — one  of 
those  handsome  guards  of  Paris  having  promised  to 
marry  her,  but  for  whom  she  had  waited  in  vain, — the 
rascal ! 

She  burst  forth  in  reproaches,  while  she  was  laying 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  309 

the  table  for  her  master,  too  frank,  she  declared,  to 
keep  any  thing  on  her  mind,  and  keep  her  mouth  closed, 
when  she  felt  so  much  interest  in  monsieur,  in  his 
health  and  reputation.  Monsieur  made  no  reply,  not 
being,  in  the  mood  for  argument.  He  bent  his  head  to 
the  squall,  turning  his  back  to  the  storm.  But,  when 
Mannette  had  finished  her  preparations,  he  shoved  her 
out  of  the  room  without  ceremony,  and  double  locked 
the  door. 

He  busied  himself  in  forming  a  new  line  of  battle, 
and  in  deciding  upon  prompt  and  active  measures. 
Rapidly  he  analyzed  the  situation.  Had  he  been  de- 
ceived in  his  investigations?  No.  Had  his  calcula- 
tions of  probabilities  been  erroneous?  No.  He  had 
started  with  a  positive  fact,  the  murder.  He  had  dis- 
covered the  particulars;  his  inferences  were  correct, 
and  must  inevitably  point  at  a  criminal  such  as  he  had 
indicated:  and  this  criminal  could  not  be  Monsieur 
Daburon's  prisoner.  His  confidence  in  a  judicial  axiom 
had  led  him  astray,  when  he  pointed  out  Albert. 

"  See,"  thought  he,  "  where  their  standard  opinions 
and  absurd  axioms,  all  cut  and  dried,  lead  us,  when 
they  are  foolishly  followed,  like  the  landmarks  on  a 
road !  Left  free  to  my  own  inspirations,  I  formed  this 
case  very  profoundly.  I  did  not  trust  to  chance.  The 
formula,  '  Seek  out  the  one  whom  the  crime  benefits ' 
may  be  as  often  absurd  as  true.  The  heirs  of  a  man 
assassinated  are  in  reality  all  benefited  by  a  murder; 
while  the  assassin  receives  at  most  the  watch  or  purse 
of  the  victim.  Three  persons  were  interested  in  the 
death  of  the  Widow  Lerouge, — Albert,  Madame  Gerdy, 
and  the  Count  de  Commarin.  It  is  plain  to  see  that 
Albert  is  not  the  criminal.  It  is  not  Madame  Gerdy, 
who  has  been  killed  by  the  unexpected  announcement 


3io  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

of  the  crime.  There  remains,  then,  the  count.  Can  it 
be  he?  He  certainly  did  not  do  it  himself.  He  hired 
some  wretch, — a  wretch  of  good  position,  if  you  please, 
wearing  well-varnished  boots  of  a  good  make,  and 
smoking  trabucos  with  an  amber  mouth-piece.  These 
villains  of  good  position  ordinarily  lack  nerve.  They 
cheat,  they  forge ;  but  they  don't  assassinate.  But  here 
the  count  would  simply  exchange  a  rabbit  for  a  hare. 
He  would  merely  substitute  one  accomplice  for  another 
still  more  dangerous.  That  would  be  idiotic;  and  the 
count  is  an  intelligent  man.  He  is,  therefore,  out  of 
the  question.  I  shall  have  to  start  off  on  another  tack. 

"Another  thing,  the  Widow  Lerouge,  who  so  dex- 
terously exchanged  the  children  while  nursing  them, 
would  be  very  likely  to  undertake  a  number  of  danger- 
ous commissions.  Who  can  prove  that  she  has  not 
made  it,  before  now,  the  interest  of  some  one  else  to  get 
her  out  of  the  way?  There  is  a  mystery  here.  I  am 
impatient ;  but  I  have  not  yet  unraveled  it.  One  thing 
is  sure  though,  she  was  not  assassinated  to  prevent 
Noel  from  recovering  his  rights.  She  must  have  been 
suppressed  for  some  analogous  reason,  by  a  bold,  ex- 
perienced scoundrel,  who  wore  the  clothing  I  fixed 
upon  Albert.  It  is,  then,  this  scent  I  must  follow. 
And,  above  all,  I  must  have  the  past  history  of  this 
obliging  widow :  and  I  will  have  it,  too ;  for  the  in- 
vestigations ordered  at  her  birthplace  will  be  in  court 
to  morrow." 

Returning  now  to  Albert,  Pere  Tabaret  weighed  the 
charges  which  were  brought  against  the  young  man, 
and  reckoned  the  chances  which  he  still  had. 

"  From  the  look  of  things,"  he  murmured,  "  I  see 
only  luck  and  myself ;  that  is  to  say,  absolutely  nothing 
in  his  favor  at  present.  As  to  the  charges,  they  are 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  311 

countless.  However,  it  is  no  use  going  over  them. 
It  is  I  who  amassed  them;  and  I  know  what  they  are 
worth!  At  once  every  thing  and  nothing.  What  do 
signs  prove,  however  striking  they  may  be,  in  this  case, 
where  one  ought  to  disbelieve  even  the  witness  of  his 
own  senses  ?  Albert  is  a  victim  of  the  most  remarkable 
coincidences:  but  one  word  might  explain  them.  I 
have  seen  many  just  such  cases.  It  was  even  worse 
in  the  affair  of  my  little  tailor.  At  five  o'clock,  he 
bought  a  knife,  which  he  showed  to  ten  of  his  friends, 
saying,  this  is  for  my  wife,  who  is  an  idle  jade,  and 
who  plays  me  false  with  my  servants.  In  the  evening, 
the  neighbor  heard  a  terrible  quarrel  between  the  cou- 
ple,— cries,  threats,  stamping,  blows;  then  suddenly 
all  was  quiet.  The  next  day,  the  tailor  had  disap- 
peared from  his  house ;  and  they  discovered  the  woman 
dead,  with  the  very  same  knife  buried  to  the  hilt  be- 
tween her  shoulders.  Ah,  well!  it  turned  out  it  was 
not  the  husband  who  had  planted  it  there ;  it  was  a  jeal- 
ous lover.  After  that,  what  is  to  be  believed  ?  Albert, 
it  is  true,  will  not  give  an  account  of  how  he  passed  the 
evening.  That  does  not  affect  me.  The  question  for 
me  is  not  to  prove  where  he  was  but  that  he  was  not  at 
Jonchere.  Perhaps,  after  all,  Gevrol  was  on  the  right 
track.  I  hope  so,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  Yes ; 
God  grant  that  he  may  be  successful.  My  vanity  and 
my  mad  presumption  will  deserve  the  slight  punish- 
ment of  his  triumph  over  me.  What  would  I  not  give 
to  establish  this  man's  innocence  ?  Half  of  my  fortune 
would  be  but  a  small  sacrifice.  If  I  should  be  foiled ; 
if,  after  having  caused  the  evil,  I  should  find  myself 
powerless  to  undo  it !  " 

Pere  Tabaret  went  to  bed,  shuddering  at  this  last 
thought.     He  fell  asleep,  and  had  a  terrible  nightmare. 


312  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Lost  in  that  vulgar  crowd,  which,  on  the  days  when 
society  revenges  itself,  presses  about  the  Place  de  la 
Roquette  and  watches  the  last  convulsions  of  one  con- 
demned to  death,  he  attended  Albert's  execution.  He 
saw  the  unhappy  boy,  his  hands  bound  behind  his  back, 
his  collar  turned  down,  ascend,  supported  by  a  priest, 
the  steep  flight  of  stairs  leading  to  the  scaffold.  He 
saw  him  upright  upon  the  fatal  platform,  throwing  his 
pious  gaze  upon  the  dismayed  assembly.  Soon  the 
eyes  of  the  condemned  man  met  his  own;  and,  break- 
ing his  cords,  he  pointed  him,  Tabaret,  out  in  the  crowd 
saying,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  There  is  my  assassin."  Then, 
a  great  clamor  arose  to  curse  him.  He  wished  to  es- 
cape ;  but  his  feet  were  nailed  to  the  ground.  He  tried 
to  close  his  eyes ;  he  could  not.  A  force  unknown 
and  irresistible  compelled  him  to  look.  Then  Albert 
again  cried  out,  "  I  am  innocent ;  the  guilty  one  is — 
He  pronounced  some  name:  the  crowd  repeated  the 
name;  and  he  alone  did  not  understand  it.  Finally 
the  head  of  the  condemned  man  fell. 

The  old  man  gave  a  loud  cry,  and  awoke  in  a  cold 
perspiration.  It  took  him  some  time  to  convince  him- 
self that  nothing  was  real  of  this  which  he  had  felt 
and  seen  and  that  he  was  actually  in  his  own  house,  in 
his  own  bed :  it  was  only  a  dream !  But  dreams  some- 
times are,  they  say,  warnings  from  heaven.  His  im- 
agination was  in  that  excited  condition  that  he  made 
unheard  of  efforts  to  recall  the  name  of  the  criminal 
pronounced  by  Albert.  Not  succeeding,  he  got  up  and 
lighted  his  candle.  The  darkness  made  him  afraid. 
The  night  peoples  itself  with  phantoms.  It  was  no 
longer  with  him  a  question  of  sleep.  Beset  with  these 
anxieties,  he  accused  himself  most  severely,  and 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  313 

harshly  reproached  the  occupation  he  had  until  now  so 
delighted  in.  Poor  humanity ! 

He  was  mad  to  fix  the  day  when  it  first  came  into  his 
head  to  seek  employment  in  the  Rue  Benjamin  Frere — 
noble  hobby,  truly,  for  a  man  of  his  age,  a  good  quiet 
citizen  of  Paris,  rich  and  esteemed  by  all!  And  to 
think  that  he  had  been  proud  of  his  exploits,  that  he  had 
boasted  of  his  cunning,  that  he  had  plumed  himself  on  his 
keenness  of  scent,  that  he  had  been  flattered  by  that 
ridiculous  soubriquet  "  Tirauclair."  Old  fool !  What 
had  he  gained  from  the  business  of  bloodhound?  All 
sorts  of  annoyance,  the  contempt  of  the  world,  without 
counting  the  danger  of  contributing  to  the  conviction  of 
an  innocent  man.  Why  had  he  not  taken  warning  by 
the  case  of  the  little  tailor  ? 

Recalling  the  few  satisfactions  of  the  past,  and  com- 
paring them  with  the  present  anguish,  he  resolved  that 
he  would  have  no  more  to  do  with  it.  Albert  once 
saved,  he  would  seek  some  amusement  less  dangerous, 
and  more  generally  appreciated.  He  would  break  the 
connection  of  which  he  was  ashamed,  and  the  police 
and  justice  might  go  on  without  him. 

At  last  the  day,  which  he  had  awaited  with  feverish 
impatience,  dawned.  To  pass  the  time,  he  dressed 
himself  slowly,  with  much  care,  trying  to  occupy  his 
mind  with  little  details,  until  an  hour  had  passed ;  du- 
ring which  he  had  looked  twenty  times  at  the  clock,  to 
see  if  it  had  not  stopped.  In  spite  of  all  this  delay,  it 
was  not  eight  o'clock  when  he  caused  himself  to  be  an- 
nounced at  the  judge's  door,  praying  him  to  excuse,  on 
account  of  the  importance  of  his  business,  a  visit  too 
early  not  to  be  unwelcome. 

Excuses   were  superfluous.     They  did  not  disturb 


314  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Monsieur  Daburon  at  eight  in  the  morning.  Already 
he  was  at  work.  He  received,  with  his  usual  kindness, 
the  old  amateur  detective,  and  even  joked  with  him  a 
little  on  his  absurdity  of  the  night  before.  Who  would 
have  thought  his  nerves  so  sensitive?  Doubtless  the 
night  had  brought  deliberation.  Had  he  recovered  his 
old  good  sense?  or  had  he  put  his  hand  on  the  true 
criminal  ? 

This  trifling  tone  in  a  magistrate,  who  was  accused 
of  being  grave  even  to  a  fault,  troubled  the  old  man. 
Did  not  this  quizzing  hide  a  determination  to  neglect 
all  that  he  could  say?  He  believed  it  did;  and  it  was 
without  the  least  deception  that  he  commenced  his 
pleading. 

He  put  the  case  more  calmly  this  time,  but  with  all 
the  energy  of  a  well-digested  conviction.  He  ad- 
dressed himself  to  the  heart,  he  spoke  to  the  reason ; 
but,  although  doubt  is  essentially  contagious,  he  neither 
succeeded  in  convincing  the  judge,  nor  shaking  his 
opinion.  His  strongest  arguments  were  of  no  more 
avail  against  Daburon's  absolute  conviction  than  bul- 
lets of  crumbs  of  bread  against  a  breastplate.  And,  at 
his  failure,  he  was  in  no  way  surprised. 

Pere  Tabaret  had  on  his  side  only  a  subtle  theory, 
words;  Daburon  possessed  palpable  testimony,  facts. 
And  such  was  this  cause,  that  all  the  reasons  brought 
forward  by  the  old  man  to  justify  Albert  simply  reacted 
upon  him,  and  confirmed  his  guilt. 

A  repulse  at  the  judge's  hands  had  entered  too  much 
into  Tabaret's  calculations  for  him  to  appear  troubled 
or  discouraged.  He  declared  that,  for  the  present,  he 
would  insist  no  more:  he  had  full  confidence  in  the 
wisdom  and  impartiality  of  the  judge  of  inquiry.  It 
sufficed  him  to  have  put  him  on  his  guard  against  the 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  315 

influences  which  he  himself  had  unfortunately  used  in 
working  up  the  case. 

He  was  going,  he  added,  to  busy  himself  with  hunt- 
ing up  "  new  signs."  They  were  only  at  the  beginning 
of  the  inquiry;  and  they  were  yet  ignorant  of  very 
many  things,  even  of  the  past  life  of  the  Widow  Le- 
rouge.  New  facts  may  come  to  light.  Who  knows 
what  testimony  the  man  with  the  rings  in  his  ears,  who 
was  now  being  pursued  by  Gevrol,  may  give.  All  en- 
raged within,  and  longing  to  injure  in  some  way  the 
"  idiot  magistrate,"  as  he  called  the  judge,  Pere  Tab- 
aret  forced  himself  to  be  humble  and  polite.  He  wished, 
he  said,  to  keep  track  of  the  examination,  and  to  be 
informed  of  the  result  of  future  investigations.  He 
finally  ended  by  asking  permission  to  communicate  with 
Albert.  He  thought  his  services  deserved  this  slight 
favor.  He  wished  an  interview  of  only  ten  minutes 
without  witnesses. 

Daburon  refused  this  request.  He  declared,  that, 
for  the  present,  the  prisoner  must  continue  to  remain 
strictly  in  solitary  confinement. 

As  a  sort  of  consolation,  he  added  that,  in  three  or 
four  days,  he  might  perhaps  be  able  to  change  this  de- 
cision, provided  the  motives  which  caused  it  no  longer 
existed. 

"  Your  refusal  is  cruel,  monsieur,"  said  Pere  Tab- 
aret ;  "  but  I  understand  it,  and  obey." 

That  was  his  only  complaint;  and  he  withdrew  al- 
most immediately,  fearing  that  he  could  no  longer  mas- 
ter his  irritation. 

He  felt,  that,  besides  the  great  happiness  of  saving 
an  innocent  man,  compromised  by  his  imprudence,  he 
should  experience  an  unspeakable  delight  in  avenging 
himself  upon  the  stubbornness  of  the  judge. 


316  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Three  or  four  days,"  he  muttered,  "  that  is  to  say, 
three  or  four  years  for  the  unfortunate  prisoner.  He 
speaks  quite  at  his  ease,  this  kind  magistrate.  But 
Albert  ought  to  know  the  truth  now." 

Yes,  Daburon  only  asked  three  or  four  days  to  wring 
a  confession  from  Albert,  or  at  least  to  make  him 
change  his  system  of  defence. 

The  difficulty  of  the  prosecution  was  in  not  being 
able  to  produce  any  witness  who  had  seen  the  prisoner 
on  the  evening  of  Shrove  Tuesday. 

One  deposition  alone  to  that  effect  would  have  so 
great  weight,  that  Daburon,  upon  Tabaret's  departure, 
turned  all  his  efforts  in  that  direction. 

He  had  great  hope  yet.  It  was  now  only  Saturday. 
The  day  of  the  murder  was  remarkable  enough  to  fix 
people's  memories ;  and  there  had  not  been  time  yet  to 
set  on  foot  a  proper  investigation. 

Five  of  the  most  experienced  spies  in  the  secret  ser- 
vice were  sent  to  Bougival,  supplied  with  photographs 
of  Albert.  They  were  to  scour  the  entire  country  be- 
tween Reuil  and  Jonchere,  to  hunt,  inquire  into,  and 
examine, — to  obtain  the  most  precise  and  the  most  min- 
ute information.  The  photographs  would  greatly  aid 
their  efforts.  They  had  orders  to  show  them  every- 
where and  to  everybody,  and  even  to  leave  a  dozen  in 
the  place,  being  furnished  with  a  sufficient  number  to 
do  so.  It  was  impossible,  that,  on  an  evening  when  so 
many  people  were  about,  no  one  had  observed  the  or- 
iginal of  the  picture  either  at  the  station  at  Reuil  or 
upon  one  of  the  roads  which  led  to  Jonchere, — the 
highway,  or  the  road  by  the  water's  edge. 

These  arrangements  made,  the  judge  of  inquiry  pro- 
ceeded to  the  palais  de  justice,  and  sent  for  his  prisoner. 

He  had  already  in  the  morning  received  a  report,  in- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  317 

forming  him  hour  by  hour  of  the  deeds,  gestures,  and 
utterances  of  the  prisoner,  carefully  watched.  Nothing 
in  him,  the  report  said,  declared  the  criminal.  He  ap- 
peared sad,  but  not  despairing.  He  had  not  cried  out, 
nor  threatened,  nor  cursed  at  justice,  nor  even  spoke 
of  the  fatal  deed.  After  having  eaten  lightly,  he  went 
to  the  window  of  his  cell,  and  had  there  remained 
standing  for  more  than  an  hour.  Then  he  laid  down, 
and  had  quietly  gone  to  sleep. 

"  What  an  iron  constitution !  "  thought  Daburon, 
when  the  prisoner  entered  his  office. 

Albert  was  no  longer  the  despairing  man,  who  the 
night  before,  dizzy  with  the  multiplicity  of  charges, 
overcome  by  the  rapidity  of  the  blows,  had  writhed 
beneath  the  gaze  of  the  judge  of  inquiry,  and  appeared 
ready  to  faint.  Innocent  or  guilty,  his  course  had  been 
taken;  his  face  left  no  doubt  of  that.  His  eyes  ex- 
pressed that  resolution,  careless  of  a  sacrifice  freely 
made,  and  a  certain  haughtiness  which  might  be  taken 
for  disdain,  but  which  expressed  the  noble  feeling  of  an 
injured  man.  In  him  was  seen  a  man  self-reliant, 
who  might  be  shaken  but  never  overcome  by  misfor- 
tune. 

At  this  countenance,  the  judge  knew  that  he  must 
change  his  mode  of  attack.  He  recognized  one  of  those 
natures,  which  attacked,  was  only  provoked  to  resist- 
ance, and,  threatened,  was  only  rendered  obstinate.  Re- 
nouncing his  efforts  to  frighten,  he  attempted  to  soften 
him.  It  was  a  hackneyed  trick,  but  one  always  suc- 
cessful, like  certain  pathetic  scenes  at  theatres.  The 
criminal  who  has  girt  up  his  energy  to  sustain  the 
shock  of  intimidation,  finds  himself  without  defence 
against  the  wheedling  of  kindness,  the  greater  in  pro- 
portion to  its  lack  of  sincerity.  Now  tenderness  would 


3i8  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

cause  Daburon's  triumph.  What  an  avowal  he  knew 
would  burst  forth  in  tears  !  No  one  knew  so  well  as  he 
how  to  touch  the  cords  which  vibrate  still  even  in  the 
most  abandoned  heart, — honor,  love,  family. 

To  Albert,  he  became  kind  and  friendly,  full  of  the 
liveliest  compassion.  Unfortunate  man!  how  much  he 
had  had  to  suffer, — he  whose  whole  life  had  been  like 
one  long  enchantment.  How  every  thing  had  fallen 
about  him  in  ruins.,  at  a  single  blow !  Who  could  have 
foreseen  all  this  in  the  time  when  he  was  the  one  hope 
of  a  wealthy  and  illustrious  house !  Calling  up  the  past, 
the  judge  pictured  to  him  the  most  touching  reminis- 
cences of  his  early  youth,  and  stirred  up  the  ashes  of 
all  his  extinct  affections.  Using  and  abusing  all  that 
he  knew  of  the  life  of  the  prisoner,  he  martyred  himc2lj 
by  the  most  mournful  allusions  to  Claire.  How  could 
he  persist  in  bearing  alone  his  great  misfortune  ?  Had 
he  no  one  in  the  world  who  would  deem  it  happiness 
to  share  his  sufferings?  Why  this  morose  silence?1 
Should  he  not  rather  hasten  to  rescue  her  whose  very; 
life  depended  upon  his?  What  was  necessary  to  that 
end?  But  a  single  word.  Then  he  would  be,  if  not 
free,  at  least  returned  to  the  world.  His  prison  would 
become  an  habitable  abode,  no  longer  solitary;  his 
friends  would  visit  him :  he  might  receive  whomever  he 
saw  fit. 

It  was  no  longer  a  judge  who  spoke ;  it  was  a  father, 
who  still  keeps  in  his  heart  indulgence  for  his  son. 

Daburon  went  on.  He  would  for  a  moment  imagine 
himself  in  Albert's  position.  What  would  be  his  con- 
dition after  the  terrible  discovery?  He  would  scarcely 
dare  question  himself.  He  would  dwell  upon  the  mur- 
der of  the  Widow  Lerouge ;  he  would  explain  it  to  him- 
self;  he  would  almost  excuse  it.  (Another  trap.)  It 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  319 

was  certainly  an  enormous  crime,  but  not  one  revolt- 
ing to  conscience  or  to  reason.  It  was  one  of  those  crimes 
which  society  might,  if  not  forget,  at  least  forgive  up 
to  a  certain  point,  because  the  motive  was  not  a  dis- 
graceful one.  What  tribunal  would  fail  to  find  extenu- 
ating circumstances  for  a  moment  of  frenzy  so  excus- 
able? For  was  not  the  first  the  greatest  criminal,  the 
Count  de  Commarin  ?  Was  it  not  his  folly  that  prepared 
the  way  for  this  terrible  denouement  ?  His  son  had  been 
the  victim  of  a  fatality,  and  was  in  tl.e  highest  degree  to 
be  pitied. 

Upon  this  text,  Daburon  spoke  for  a  long  time,  seek- 
ing those  things  most  suitable  in  his  opinion  to  soften 
the  hardened  heart  of  the  assassin.  And  he  arrived  al- 
ways, at  the  same  conclusion, — the  wisdom  of  confess- 
ing. But  he  wasted  his  eloquence  precisely  as  Tabaret 
had  wasted  his.  Albert  appeared  in  no  way  affected. 
His  replies  were  of  the  shortest.  He  began  and  ended 
as  at  first,  in  protesting  his  innocence. 

One  test,  which  had  often  given  the  desired  result, 
now  remained  to  be  tried. 

On  this  same  day,  Saturday,  Albert  was  confronted 
with  the  corpse  of  the  Widow  Lerouge.  He  appeared 
impressed  by  the  sad  sight,  but  no  more  than  any  one 
would  be,  if  forced  to  look  at  the  victim  of  an  assassina- 
tion four  days  after  the  crime.  One  of  the  bystanders , 
exclaiming, — 

"Ah,  if  she  could  but  speak!"  he  replied,  "That 
would  be  great  good  fortune  for  me." 

Since  morning,  Daburon  had  not  obtained  the  least 
advantage.  He  had  to  acknowledge  the  failure  of  his 
plot;  and  here  this  last  triumph  had  grounded.  The 
unmoved  calmness  of  the  prisoner  filled  to  overflowing 
the  exasperation  of  this  man  so  sure  of  his  facts.  His 


320  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

spite  was  evident  to  all,  when,  dropping  suddenly  his 
wheedling,  he  harshly  gave  the  orders  to  re-conduct  the 
prisoner  to  his  cell. 

"  I  will  compel  him  to  confess/'  he  ground  between 
his  teeth. 

Perhaps  he  regretted  those  gentle  instruments  of 
investigation  of  the  middle  ages,  which  compelled  the 
prisoner  to  say  whatever  they  wanted  him  to.  Never, 
thought  he,  did  any  one  ever  meet  a  prisoner  like  this. 
What  could  he  reasonably  hope  for  from  this  system 
of  persistent  denial?  This  obstinacy,  absurd  in  the 
presence  of  absolute  proofs,  drove  the  judge  into  a 
rage.  Albert,  confessing  his  guilt,  would  have  found 
him  disposed  to  pity;  denying  it,  he  opposed  himself 
to  an  implacable  enemy. 

It  was  the  very  falseness  of  the  situation  which  misled 
and  blinded  this  magistrate,  naturally  so  kind  and  gen- 
erous. Having  previously  wished  Albert  innocent,  he 
now  absolutely  longed  to  prove  him  guilty,  and  that  for 
a  hundred  reasons  which  he  was  unable  to  analyse.  He 
remembered,  too,  his  having  had  the  Viscount  de  Com- 
marin  for  a  rival,  and  his  having  nearly  assassinated 
him.  Had  he  not  repented  even  with  remorse  his  hav- 
ing signed  the  warrant  of  arrest,  and  accepted  the  duty 
of  investigation?  Tabaret's  incomprehensible  change 
troubled  him,  too. 

All  these  feelings,  combined,  inspired  Daburon  with 
a  feverish  hatred,  urging  him  on  in  the  path  which 
he  had  chosen.  In  future,  it  would  be  less  the  proofs 
of  Albert's  guilt  which  he  sought  for  than  the  justifi- 
cation of  his  own  conduct  to  himself  as  judge.  The  in- 
vestigation rankled,  as  if  it  were  a  personal  matter. 

In  fact,  were  the  prisoner  innocent,  he  would  become 
inexcusable  in  his  own  eyes;  and,  in  proportion  as  he 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  321 

reproached  himself  the>  more  severely,  and  as  the  feel- 
ings of  his  own  wrongs  grew,  he  was  the  more  disposed 
to  try  every  thing  to  conquer  this  ancient  rival,  even 
to  abusing  his  own  power.  The  logic  of  events  urged 
him  on.  It  seemed  as  though  his  honor  itself  were  at 
stake;  and  he  displayed  a  passionate  activity,  such  as 
had  never  been  seen  before  in  any  investigation. 

All  Sunday,  Daburon  passed  in  listening  to  the  re- 
ports of  his  agents  at  Bougival. 

They  had  spared  no  trouble,  they  stated;  but  they 
could  report  no  new  developments. 

They  had  heard  many  speak  of  a  woman,  who  had 
pretended,  they  said,  td  have  seen  the  assassin  leaving 
the  Widow  Lerouge's  house;  but  no  one  had  been  able 
to  point  this  woman  out  to  them,  or  even  to  give  them 
her  name. 

But  they  all  thought  it  their  duty  to  inform  the  judge 
that  another  inquiry  was  going  on  at  the  same  time 
with  theirs.  It  was  under  the  charge  of  Pere  Tabaret, 
who  personally  scoured  the  country  in  all  directions 
in  a  cabriolet  drawn  by  a  very  swift  horse.  He  must 
have  acted  with  great  promptness ;  for,  everywhere 
that  they  presented  themselves,  he  had  anticipated  them. 
He  appeared  to  have  under  his  orders  a  dozen  men, 
four  of  whom  at  least  certainly  belonged  to  the  Rue 
Jerusalem.  All  the  agents  had  met  him ;  and  he  had 
spoken  to  all  of  them.  To  one,  he  had  said, — 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  showing  this  photograph 
for?  In  less  than  no  time  you  will  pick  up  a  witness, 
-who,  to  gain  three  francs,  will  describe  some  one  more 
like  the  picture  than  the  picture  itself." 

He  had  met  another  agent  on  the  road,  and  had 
laughed  at  him. 

"  You  are  a  simple  fellow,"  he  cried  out  to  him,  "  to 


322  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

hunt  for  a  hiding  man  in  the  highway ;  look  a  little 
aside,  and  you  may  find  him." 

Finally  he  had  accosted  two  who  were  together  in  a 
cafe  at  Bougival,  and  had  taken  them  aside. 

"  I  have  him,"  he  said  to  them.  "  He  is  a  smart 
fellow ;  he  passed  by  Chatois.  Three  people  have  seen 
him, — two  railway  employes,  and  a  third  person  whose 
testimony  will  be  decisive;  for  she  spoke  to  him.  He 
was  smoking." 

Daburon  was  so  angry  at  this  with  Pere  Tabaret, 
that,  on  the  instant  he  started  for  Bougival,  firmly  re- 
solved to  bring  this  too  zealous  man  back  to  Paris  and  to 
give  him  some  occupation  more  in  the  interests  of  jus- 
tice. This  trip  was  useless.  Tabaret,  cabriolet,  swift 
horse,  and  the  twelve  men  had  all  disappeared,  or  at 
least  were  not  to  be  found. 

On  returning  home,  much  fatigued  and  very  angry, 
the  judge  of  inquiry  found  the  following  despatch 
from  the  chief  of  the  detective  force ;  it  was  brief,  and 
to  the  point, — 

"  ROUEN,  Sunday. 

"  The  man  is  found.  This  evening  we  start  for  Paris. 
The  most  valuable  testimony.  GEVROL." 


CHAPTER    XV. 

MONDAY  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  Daburon  was  pre- 
paring to  start  for  the  palais  de  justice,  where  he  ex- 
pected to  find  Gevrol  and  his  man,  and  perhaps  Pere 
Tabaret. 

His  preparations  were  nearly  made,  when  his  ser- 
vant announced  that  a  young  lady,  accompanied  by  an- 
other more  elderly,  asked  to  speak  with  him. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  323 

She  declined  giving  her  name,  saying,  however,  that 
she  would  not  refuse  it,  if  that  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary in  order  to  be  received. 

"  Let  her  enter,"  said  the  judge. 

He  thought  it  might  be  a  relation  of  some  one  of  the 
prisoners,  with  whose  business  he  had  been  employed  be- 
fore the  Jonchere  crime  occurred.  He  determined  to 
make  short  work  of  her,  if  she  were  troublesome. 

He  was  standing  before  his  mantel,  hunting  for  an 
address  in  a  plate  filled  with  visiting  cards.  At  the 
sound  of  the  opening  of  the  door,  at  the  rustling  of  a 
silk  dress  gliding  by  the  window,  he  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  move,  did  not  deign  even  to  turn  his  head. 
He  contented  himself  w.ith  merely  casting  a  careless 
glance  into  the  mirror. 

But  he  immediately  started  with  a  movement  of  dis- 
may, as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost.  In  his  confusion,  he 
dropped  the  card-plate,  which  fell  noisily  to  the  hearth, 
and  broke  into  a  thousand  pieces. 

"Claire,"  he  stammered,  "Claire!" 

And,  as  if  he  feared  equally  either  his  being  deceived 
by  an  illusion  or  the  actually  seeing  her  whose  name  he 
pronounced,  he  turned  slowly. 

It  was  truly  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges. 

This  young  girl,  usually  so  proud  and  reserved,  had 
had  courage  to  come  to  his  house  alone,  or  almost 
alone ;  for  her  governess,  whom  she  had  left  in  the  ante' 
chamber,  counted  as  no  one.  She  was  obeying  some 
powerful  emotion ;  since  it  made  her  forget  her  habitual 
timidity. 

Never,  even  in  the  time  when  a  sight  of  her  was  his 
greatest  happiness,  had  she  appeared  more  fascinating. 
Her  beauty,  ordinarily  veiled  by  a  sweet  sadness, 
beamed  forth,  and  dazzled  him.  Her  features  had  an 


324  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

animation  which  he  had  never  seen  in  them  before.  In 
her  eyes,  rendered  more  brilliant  by  recent  tears,  even 
now  hardly  wiped  away,  shone  the  noblest  resolution. 
One  could  see  that  she  was  conscious  of  having  a  great 
duty  to  perform,  and  that  she  would  accomplish  it,  if 
not  with  pleasure,  at  least  with  that  simplicity  which 
in  her  was  heroism. 

She  advanced  calm  and  dignified,  and  held  out  her 
hand  to  the  magistrate  in  that  English  style  that  some 
ladies  can  imitate  so  gracefully. 

"  We  have  always  been  friends,  have  we  not  ?  "  she 
said  with  a  sad  smile. 

The  magistrate  did  not  dare  take  the  ungloved  hand 
she  held  out  to  him.  It  was  as  much  as  he  dared  to 
touch  the  end  of  her  fingers,,  as  if  he  feared  too  great 
an  emotion. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  indistinctly,  "  I  have  been  always 
devoted  to  you." 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  sat  down  in  the  easy  chair, 
where,  two  nights  previously  Pere  Tabaret  had  planned 
Albert's  arrest. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  have  come  ?  "  asked  the  young 
girl. 

With  a  nod,  he  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

He  divined  her  object  only  too  easily;  and  he  was 
asking  himself,  in  fact,  whether  he  ought  to  resist 
prayers  from  such  a  mouth.  What  could  she  ask  that  he 
would  have  the  heart  to  refuse  ?  Ah,  if  he  had  foreseen 
this! 

"  I  only  knew  of  this  dreadful  story  yesterday,"  pur- 
sued Claire ;  "  they  considered  it  wise  to  hide  it  from 
me ;  and,  but  for  my  devoted  Schmidt,  I  should  yet  be 
ignorant  of  it  all.  What  a  night  have  I  passed !  I  was 
at  first  terrified;  but,  when  they  told  me  that  all  de- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  325 

pended  upon  you,  my  fears  were  dispelled.  It  is  for  my 
sake,  is  it  not  ?  that  you  have  taken  charge  of  this  trial  ? 
Oh,  you  are  a  noble  man !  How  can  I  ever  express  my 
thanks ! " 

What  humiliation  for  the  honest  magistrate  were 
these  heartfelt  thanks !  Yes,  he  had  at  first  thought  of 
Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges :  but  since —  He  bowed  his 
head,  to  avoid  that  beautiful  sight  of  Claire,  so  pure,  so 
daring. 

"  Do  not  thank  me,  mademoiselle,"  he  stammered ; 
"  I  have  not  the  claim  that  you  think  upon  your  grat-> 
itude." 

Claire  had  already  noticed  the  magistrate's  agitation. 
The  trembling  of  his  voice  attracted  her  attention ;  but 
she  did  not  suspect  the  cause.  She  thought  that  her 
presence  recalled  sad  memories,  that  he  doubtless  still 
loved  her,  and  that  he  was  suffering  for  her.  This  idea 
saddened  her,  and  filled  her  with  self-reproach. 

"  And  yet,  monsieur,"  she  continued,  "  I  thank  you 
all  the  same.  I  should  never  have  dared  go  to  another 
judge,  to  speak  to  an  entire  stranger!  For  what  value 
would  he  attach  to  my  words,  not  knowing  me  ?  While 
you,  you,  so  generous,  will  reassure  me,  will  tell  me 
by  what  unhappy  mistake  he  has  been  arrested  and  put 
in  prison." 

"  Alas !  "  sighed  the  magistrate  so  low  that  Claire 
scarcely  heard  or  understood  the  terrible  meaning  of 
the  exclamation. 

"  With  you,"  she  continued,  "  I  do  not  fear.  You 
are  my  friend,  you  have  told  me;  you  will  not  refuse 
my  prayers.  Give  him  his  liberty  quickly.  I  do  not 
know  exactly  of  what  he  is  accused ;  but  I  swear  to  you 
that  he  is  innocent." 

Claire  spoke  in  the  positive  manner  of  one  who  saw 


326  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

no  obstacle  in  the  way  to  the  very  simple  and  natural 
desire  which  she  had  expressed.  A  formal  assurance 
given  by  her  ought  to  be  amply  sufficient;  in  a  word, 
Daburon  was  to  repair  every  thing.  The  judge  was 
silent.  He  admired  this  saint-like  ignorance  of  every 
thing,  this  artless  and  frank  confidence  which  doubted 
nothing.  She  had  commenced  by  wounding  him  inad- 
vertently, it  is  true;  but  he  quite  forgot  that. 

He  was  really  honest,  good  as  the  best,  as  is  proved 
from  the  fact,  that,  at  the  moment  of  unveiling  the  fatal 
truth,  he  shuddered.  He  hesitated  to  pronounce  the 
words  whose  breath,  like  a  whirlwind,  would  overturn 
the  fragile  edifice  of  this  young  girl's  happiness.  Hu- 
miliated, despised,  he  was  going  to  have  his  revenge; 
but  it  brought  him  no  satisfaction. 

"  And  if  I  should  tell  you,  mademoiselle,"  he  com- 
menced, "  that  Albert  is  not  innocent — " 

She  half-raised  herself  with  a  protesting  gesture.  He 
continued, — 

"  If  I  should  tell  you  he  is  guilty?" 

"  O  monsieur !  "  interrupted  Claire,  "  you  cannot 
think  it." 

"  I  do  think  it,  mademoiselle,"  continued  the  magis- 
trate in  a  sad  voice ;  "  and  I  must  add  that  I  am  morally 
certain  of  it." 

Claire  looked  at  the  magistrate  with  profound 
amazement.  Can  this  really  be  he  who  is  speaking  to 
her?  Did  she  hear  him  aright?  Did  she  understand? 
She  was  really  in  doubt.  Had  he  answered  seriously? 
Was  he  not  abusing  her  by  an  unworthy,  cruel  jest?  She 
asked  herself  this  with  a  sort  of  wildness;  for  every 
thing  appeared  possible,  probable,  rather  than  that 
which  he  had  spoken. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  327 

Not  daring  to  raise  his  eyes  he  continued  in  a  tone, 
expressive  of  the  sincerest  pity, — 

"  I  suffer  cruelly  for  you  at  this  moment,  mademoi- 
selle ;  but  I  have  the  sad  courage  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
and  you  must  summon  yours  to  hear  it.  Much  better 
that  you  should  know  all  from  the  mouth  of  a  friend. 
Summon,  then,  all  your  fortitude;  strengthen  your 
noble  soul  against  a  most  dreadful  misfortune.  No, 
there  is  no  mistake.  Justice  has  not  been  deceived. 
The  Viscount  de  Commarin  is  accused  of  an  assassina- 
tion ;  and  it  is  absolutely — absolutely,  understand  me — 
proved  that  he  committed  it." 

Like  a  doctor,  who  pours  out  drop  by  drop  a  danger- 
ous medicine,  Daburon  pronounced  slowly,  word  by 
word  this  last  sentence.  He  watched  carefully  the  re- 
sult, ready  to  cease,  if  the  shock  was  too  great.  He  did 
not  suppose  that  this  young  girl,  timid  to  excess,  with 
a  sensitiveness  almost  a  disease,  would  be  able  to  hear 
without  flinching  such  a  revelation.  He  expected  a 
burst  of  despair,  tears,  distressing  cries.  She  might 
perhaps  faint  away ;  and  he  stood  ready  to  call  in  the 
good  Schmidt. 

He  was  deceived.  Claire  drew  herself  up  full  of 
energy  and  valor.  The  flame  of  indignation  flushed 
her  cheeks,  and  dried  her  tears. 

"  It  is  false,"  she  cried ;  "  and  those  who  say  it  are 
liars.  He  cannot  be;  no  he  cannot  be  an  assassin.  If 
he  were  here,  and  should  himself  say,  '  It  is  true,'  I 
should  refuse  to  believe  it :  I  should  still  cry  out,  '  It  is 
false.'  " 

"  He  has  not  yet  confessed  it,"  continued  the  judge; 
"  but  he  will  confess  it :  and,  if  not,  there  are  more 
proofs  than  are  needed  to  convict  him.  The  charges 


328  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

against  him  are  as  impossible  to  deny  as  is  the  sun 
which  shines  upon  us." 

"  Ah !  well,"  interrupted  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges, 
in  a  voice  which  thrilled  his  soul,  "  I  assert,  I  repeat, 
that  justice  is  deceived.  Yes,"  she  persisted,  stopping 
a  gesture  of  denial  from  the  judge, — "  yes,  he  is  in- 
nocent. I  am  sure  of  it;  and  I  will  proclaim  it,  even 
were  the  whole  world  to  join  with  you  in  accusing  him. 
Do  you  not  see  that  I  understand  him  better  than  he 
can  understand  himself?  that  my  faith  in  him  is  ab- 
solute, as  that  which  I  have  in  God  ?  that  I  would  doubt 
myself  before  doubting  him  ?  " 

The  judge  of  inquiry  attempted  timidly  to  make  an 
objection.  Claire  interrupted  him, — 

"  You  force  me,  then,  monsieur,"  said  she,  "  in  order 
to  overcome  you,  to  forget  that  I  am  a  young  girl,  and 
that  I  am  not  talking  to  my  mother  but  to  a  man.  For 
his  sake,  I  can  bear  it !  It  is  four  years,  monsieur,  since 
we  first  loved,  and  told  each  other  of  it.  Since  that 
time,  I  have  not  kept  from  him  one  of  my  thoughts :  he 
has  not  hid  from  me  one  of  his.  For  four  years,  we 
have  never  had  a  secret  between  us :  he  lived  in  me,  as 
I  lived  in  him.  I  alone  can  say  how  worthy  he  is  to 
be  loved ;  I  alone  know  all  that  grandeur  of  soul,  no- 
bility of  thought,  generosity  of  sentiment,  from  which 
you  have  so  easily  made  an  assassin.  And  I  have  seen 
him,  oh !  so  unhappy,  while  all  the  world  envied  his  lot. 
He  was  like  me,  alone  in  the  world ;  his  father  never 
loved  him.  Sustained  one  by  the  other,  we  have  passed 
many  a  sad  day ;  and  it  is  at  the  very  moment  our  trial 
was  ending  that  he  has  become  a  criminal.  Why?  tell 
me  why?  " 

"  Neither  the  name  nor  fortune  of  the  Count  de 
Commarin  would  descend  to  him,  mademoiselle;  and 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  329 

the  knowledge  of  it  came  upon  him  with  a  sudden 
shock.  One  old  woman  alone  was  able  to  prove  this. 
To  protect  his  position,  he  killed  her." 

"  What  infamous,"  cried  the  young  girl,  "  what 
shameful,  wicked  calumny !  I  know,  monsieur,  this 
story  of  falling  greatness;  he  himself  told  me  of  it. 
It  is  true  that  for  three  days  this  misfortune  un- 
manned him ;  but,  if  he  was  dismayed,  it  was  on  my  ac- 
count more  than  his  own.  He  was  distressed  at  think- 
ing that  perhaps  I  should  be  grieved,  when  he  confessed 
to  me  that  he  could  no  longer  give  me  all  that  his  love 
dreamed  of.  I  grieved  ?  Ah !  what  to  me  is  this  great 
name,  this  immense  wealth?  I  owe  to  them  all  the  un- 
happiness  of  my  life.  Was  it,  then,  for  their  sake  that 
I  loved  him  ?  It  was  thus  that  I  replied  to  him ;  and  he, 
so  sad,  immediately  recovered  his  gayety.  He  thanked 
me,  saying,  '  You  love  me ;  the  rest  is  of  no  conse- 
quence.' I  chided  him,  then,  for  having  doubted  me; 
and,  after  that,  would  he  thus  cowardly  assassinate  an 
old  woman?  You  dare  not  repeat  it." 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  ceased,  a  smile  of  victory 
on  her  lips.  That  smile  meant,  "  At  last  I  have  attained 
my  end :  you  are  conquered ;  what  can  you  reply  to  all 
that  I  have  said  ?  " 

The  judge  of  inquiry  did  not  long  leave  this  smiling 
illusion  to  the  unhappy  child.  He  did  not  perceive 
the  cruelty,  the  shock  of  his  persistence.  Always  the 
one  idea.  In  persuading  Claire,  he  would  justify  his 
own  conduct  to  himself. 

"  You  do  not  know,  mademoiselle,"  he  continued, 
"what  giddiness  may  overthrow  the  reason  of  an  honest 
man.  It  is  only  at  the  time  a  thing  escapes  us  that  we 
feel  the  greatness  of  the  loss.  God  keep  me  from  doubt- 
ing all  that  which  you  have  said !  but  picture  to  yourself 


330  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

the  immensity  of  the  blow  which  has  fallen  upon  M. 
de  Commarin.  Think  of  the  despair  to  which  he  was 
driven  on  leaving  you,  and  the  extremities  to  which  it 
might  lead  him !  He  might  have  had  a  moment  of 
wildness,  and  have  done  the  deed  without  perceiving 
its  enormity.  In  this  way  the  crime  may  be  explained." 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges'  face  grew  deathly  pale, 
and  betrayed  the  utmost  terror.  The  judge  saw  that  at 
last  doubt  began  to  affect  her  noble  and  pure  thoughts. 

"  He  might,  then,  have  been  mad,"  she  murmured. 

"Possibly,"  replied  the  judge;  "but  the  circum- 
stances of  the  crime  denote  a  well-laid  plan.  Believe 
me,  then,  mademoiselle,  and  do  not  be  too  confident. 
Wait,  prayerfully,  the  issue  of  this  unhappy  trial.  Lis- 
ten to  my  voice;  it  is  that  of  a  friend.  You  used  to 
have  in  me  the  confidence  a  daughter  gives  to  her 
father,  you  have  often  told  me ;  do  not,  then,  refuse  my 
advice.  Keep  silence;  wait.  Hide  your  real  grief;  you 
may  hereafter  regret  having  exposed  it.  Young,  inex- 
perienced, without  a  mother,  alas !  you  have  sadly  mis- 
placed your  affections." 

"  No,  monsieur,  no,"  stammered  Claire.  "  Ah !  " 
she  added,  "  you  speak  like  the  rest  of  the  world, — the 
prudent,  egotistical  world,  which  I  despise  and  hate." 

"  Poor  child !  "  continued  Daburon,  pitiless,  even  in 
his  compassion,  "  unhappy  girl !  this  is  your  first  de- 
ception !  Nothing  can  be  imagined  more  terrible.  Few 
women  would  know  how  to  bear  it.  But  you  are  young ; 
you  are  brave ;  your  life  will  not  be  ruined.  Hereafter 
you  will  feel  horrified  at  this  crime.  There  is  no  wound, 
I  know  by  experience,  which  time  does  not  heal." 

Claire  tried  to  grasp  what  the  judge  was  saying; 
but  she  heard  only  confused  sounds;  the  meaning  en- 
tirely escaped  her. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  331 

"  I  do  not  understand,  monsieur,"  she  broke  in. 
"  What  advice,  then,  would  you  give  me  ?  " 

"  The  only  one  that  reason  dictates,  and  that  my  af- 
fection for  you  can  suggest,  mademoiselle.  I  speak  to 
you  like  a  tender  and  devoted  brother.  I  say  to  you, 
'  Courage,  Claire :  give  yourself  up  to  the  saddest, 
greatest  sacrifice  which  honor  can  ask  of  a  young  girl. 
Weep,  yes,  weep  for  your  deceived  love;  but  renounce 
it.  Pray  heaven  to  send  you  fprgetfulness.  He  ,whom 
you  have  loved  is  no  longer  worthy  of  you.' " 

The  judge  stopped  a  little  frightened.  Made- 
moiselle d'Arlanges  had  become  livid. 

But,  although  the  body  failed,  the  soul  still  remained 
firm. 

"  You  said  a  moment  since,"  she  murmured,  "  that 
he  might  have  committed  this  crime  in  a  moment  of  dis- 
traction, in  a  fit  of  madness  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  is  possible." 

"  Then,  monsieur,  not  knowing  what  he  did,  he  is  no 
criminal." 

The  judge  of  inquiry  forgot  a  certain  troublesome 
question  which  he  had  put  to  himself  one  morning  in 
bed  after  his  sickness. 

"  Neither  justice  nor  society,  mademoiselle,"  he  re- 
plied, "  can  take  that  into  account.  To  God  alone,  who 
sees  into  the  depths  of  our  hearts,  it  belongs  to  judge, 
to  decide  upon  these  questions  which  human  justice 
must  pass  by.  In  our  sight,  M.  de  Commarin  is  a 
criminal.  There  may  be  certain  extenuating  circum- 
stances to  soften  the  punishment;  but  the  moral  stain 
is  the  same.  Even  if  he  were  acquitted, — and  I  hope 
he  may  be,  but  without  hope, — he  will  always  wear  the 
dishonor,  the  stain  of  blood  cowardly  shed.  Then  give 
him  up." 


332  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  stopped  the  judge  with  a 
look  which  flashed  the  -most  vivid  resentment. 

"  Then,"  she  cried,  "  you  counsel  me  to  abandon  him 
in  his  misfortune.  All  the  world  deserts  him;  and 
your  prudence  advises  me  to  act  with  the  world.  Men 
may  act  thus,  they  tell  me,  when  one  of  their  friends  is 
ruined;  but  women  never.  Look  about  you;  however 
humiliated,  however  wretched,  however  fallen,  you 
always  find  the  wife  near,  to  sustain  and  console.  When 
the  last  friend  has  boldly  taken  to  flight,  when  the  last 
relation  has  abandoned  you,  the  wife  remains." 

The  judge  regretted  his  having  been  carried  away  a 
little  too  far.  Claire's  excitement  frightened  him.  He 
tried  in  vain  to  stop  her. 

"  I  may  be  timid."  she  continued  with  increasing  en- 
ergy ;  "  but  I  am  no  coward.  I  have  chosen  Albert  vol- 
untarily from  all.  Whatever  happens  to  him,  I  will 
never  desert  him.  No :  I  will  never  say,  '  I  do  not  know 
this  man.'  He  would  have  given  me  half  of  his  pros- 
perity,, and  of  his  glory.  I  will  share,  whether  he  ex- 
pects it  or  not,  half  of  his  shame  and  misfortune.  Be- 
tween two,  the  burden  will  be  less  weighty.  Strike! 
I  will  cling  so  closely  to  him  that  no  blow  can  touch 
him  without  hurting  me,  too.  You  counsel  me  to  for- 
get him.  Teach  me,  then,  how.  I  forget  him  ?  Could 
I,  if  I  wished?  But  I  do  not  wish  it.  I  love  him.  It 
is  no  more  in  my  power  to  cease  loving  him  than  it  is 
to  arrest,  by  the  sole  effort  of  my  will,  the  beating  of 
my  heart.  He  is  a  prisoner,  accused  of  an  assassina- 
tion. So  be  it.  I  love  him.  He  is  a  criminal.  What 
of  that?  I  love  him.  You  condemn,  you  dishonor 
him.  Condemned,  dishonored,  I  still  love  him.  You 
will  send  him  to  prison.  I  will  follow  him ;  and  in  the 
prison,  under  the  convict's  dress  I  will  love  him  still. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  333 

Let  him  fall  to  the  bottom  of  the  abyss.  I  will  fall  with 
him.  My  life  is  his,  at  his  disposal.  No,  nothing  shall 
separate  us,  nothing  but  death !  And,  if  he  must  mount 
the  scaffold,  I  shall  die,  I  know  well,  with  the  blow 
which  fells  him." 

Daburon  had  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  He  would 
not  for  worlds  have  Claire  perceive  the  emotion  with 
which  he  was  affected. 

"  How  she  loves  him !  "  he  thought,  "  how  she  loves 
him !  " 

His  spirit  was  sunk  in  the  darkest  thoughts.  All  the 
stings  of  jealousy  were  rending  him. 

What  would  not  be  his  delight,  if  he  were  the  object  of 
so  irresistible  a  passion  as  this  which  shone  before  him ! 
What  would  he  not  give  in  return !  He  had,  too,  a 
young  and  ardent  soul,  a  burning  thirst  for  love.  But 
who  would  be  thus  troubled  for  him?  He  was 
esteemed,  respected,  perhaps  feared,  but  not  loved ;  and 
he  never  would  be.  Was  he,  then,  unworthy  of  it? 
Why  do  so  many  men  pass  through  life  destitute  of 
love,  while  others,  the  vilest  beings  sometimes,  seem  to 
possess  a  mysterious  power,  which  charms,  seduces, 
carries  away,  which  inspires  in  the  object  of  their  af- 
fection a  blind,  impetuous  longing  to  sacrifice  herself 
for  them.  Have  women,  then,  no  reason  nor  discern- 
ment? 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges'  silence  brought  the  judge 
back  to  himself.  He  raised  his  eyes  to  her.  Overcome 
by  the  violence  of  her  enthusiasm,  she  fell  back  in  her 
chair,  and  breathed  with  such  difficulty  that  Daburon 
feared  that  she  was  going  to  faint.  He  moved  his  hand 
quickly  to  the  bell  upon  his  desk,  to  summon  aid ;  but 
Claire  was  quicker  still,  and  stopped  him. 

"  What  would  you  do  ?  "  she  asked. 


334  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  You  seemed  suffering  so/'  he  stammered,  "  that 
I—" 

"  It  is  nothing,  monsieur,"  replied  she.  "  I  may  seem 
weak;  but  it  is  nothing.  I  am  very  strong,  believe  me, 
very  strong.  It  is  true  that  I  suffer,  as  I  never  believed 
that  one  could  suffer.  It  is  cruel  for  a  young  girl  to 
have  to  do  violence  to  all  her  feelings.  You  ought  to 
be  satisfied,  monsieur.  I  have  torn  aside  all  veils;  and 
you  have  read  even  the  inmost  recesses  of  my  heart. 
But  I  do  not  regret  it ;  it  was  for  his  sake.  That  which 
I  do  regret  is  my  having  lowered  myself  so  far  as  to 
defend  him ;  but  he  will  forgive  me  that  one  doubt. 
Your  persistence  startled  me  so.  A  man  like  him  does 
not  need  defence ;  his  innocence  must  be  proved ;  and, 
God  helping  me,  I  will  prove  it." 

As  Claire  was  half-rising  to  depart,  Daburon  de- 
tained her  by  a  gesture.  In  his  blindness,  he  thought 
he  would  be  doing  wrong  to  leave  this  poor  young  girl 
in  the  slightest  way  deceived.  Having  done  so  much 
at  the  beginning,  he  persuaded  himself  that  his  duty 
bade  him  go  on  to  the  end.  He  said  to  himself,  in  all 
good  faith  that  thus  he  should  save  Claire  herself,  and 
spare  her  in  the  future  from  bitter  regrets.  The  sur- 
geon who  has  commenced  a  painful  operation  does  not 
leave  it  half-finished  because  the  patient  struggles,  suf- 
fers, and  cries  out. 

"  It  is  painful,  mademoiselle, — "  he  began. 

Claire  would  not  let  him  finish. 

"  Enough,  monsieur,"  said  she ;  "  all  that  you  can 
say  will  be  of  no  avail.  I  respect  your  unhappy  con- 
viction. I  ask,  in  return,  the  same  regard  for  mine.  If 
you  were  truly  my  friend,  I  should  ask  you  to  aid  me 
in  the  task  of  saving  him,  to  which  I  shall  devote  my- 
self ;  but  you,  doubtless,  are  not  willing." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  335 

Claire  seemed  to  be  continually  irritating  the  un- 
happy magistrate.  With  her  woman's  instinct,  she  had 
arrived  at  the  same  result  as  Pere  Tabaret  with  his 
logic.  Women  neither  analyse  nor  reason:  they  feel 
and  think.  Instead  of  discussing,  they  affirm ;  and 
here,  perhaps,  arises  their  superiority.  As  for  Claire, 
Daburon  did  not  feel  that  she  was  his  enemy;  and  yet 
she  treated  him  like  one. 

The  judge  of  inquiry  resented  strongly  this  injury. 
Annoyed  by  his  scruples  of  conscience  on  one  side,  and 
by  his  convictions  on  the  other,  tossed  about  between 
duty  and  feelings,  embarrassed  by  the  harness  of  his 
profession,  he  was  incapable  of  simple  reflection.  For 
three  days,  he  had  acted  like  a  stubborn  child.  Why 
this  obstinacy,  which  would  not  admit  the  possibility  of 
Albert's  innocence?  Investigations  in  all  cases  have 
the  same  aim.  But  he,  usually  favorable  to  a  prisoner, 
would  not  admit  for  a  moment  that  there  might  be  a 
mistake  in  this  case. 

"  If  you  knew  the  proofs  which  I  have  in  my  hand, 
mademoiselle,"  he  said  in  a  cold  tone,  which  expressed 
his  determination  not  to  give  way  to  anger,  "  if  I  should 
show  them  to  you,  you  would  have  no  longer  a  doubt." 

"  Speak,  monsieur,"  cried  Claire  imperiously. 

"  You  wish  it,  mademoiselle  ?  Very  well ;  I  will  give 
you  in  detail  all  the  charges  made  by  justice.  I  will 
explain  every  thing;  you  shall  know  all.  But  no;  why 
should  I  harass  you  with  all  the  proofs?  There  is 
one  which  alone  is  decisive.  The  murder  was  commit- 
ted on  the  evening  of  Shrove  Tuesday;  and  the  pris- 
oner cannot  give  an  account  of  what  he  did  on  that 
evening.  He  went  out,  however,  and  returned  home 
about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  his  clothes  soiled  and 
torn,  his  gloves  frayed." 


336  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Oh !  enough,  monsieur  enough !  "  broke  in  Claire, 
whose  eyes  beamed  once  more  with  happiness.  "  You 
say  it  was  on  Shrove  Tuesday  evening  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  Ah !  I  was  sure/'  she  cried  triumphantly.  "  I 
told  you  truly  that  he  could  not  be  the  criminal." 

She  raised  her  hands ;  and,  from  the  movement  of 
her  lips,  it  was  evident  that  she  was  praying. 

The  expression  of  the  most  perfect  trust,  represented 
by  some  of  the  Italian  painters,  illuminated  her  beauti- 
ful face;  while  she  gave  thanks  to  God  in  a  burst  of 
thankfulness. 

The  magistrate  was  so  disconcerted,  that  he  forgot  to 
admire  her.  He  awaited  an  explanation. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  asked  impatiently. 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Claire,  "  if  that  is  your  strongest 
proof,  it  exists  no  longer.  Albert  passed  the  entire 
evening  you  speak  of  with  me." 

"  With  you?  "  stammered  the  judge. 

"  Yes,  with  me,  at  my  house." 

Daburon  was  stunned.  Was  he  dreaming?  His  arms 
fell. 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  the  viscount  was  at  your 
house?  And  your  grandmother,  your  governess,  your 
servants,  did  they  all  see  him  and  speak  to  him  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur ;  he  came  and  went  away  in  secret. 
He  wished  no  one  to  see  him;  he  desired  to  be  alone 
with  me." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  judge  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

The  sigh  was  significant.  It  meant,  "  It's  all  clear, 
— only  too  evident.  She  is  determined  to  save  him,  at 
the  risk  even  of  compromising  her  reputation.  Poor 
girl!  The  idea  must  have  just  occurred  to  her." 

This   "  Ah !  "   was   interpreted   very   differently  by 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  337 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges.  She  thought  that  Daburon 
was  astonished  at  her  consenting  to  receive  Albert. 

"  Your  surprise  is  an  insult,  monsieur,"  said  she. 

"  Mademoiselle !  " 

"  A  daughter  of  my  family,  monsieur,  may  receive 
her  fiance,  without  danger  of  any  thing  occurring  for 
which  she  should  blush." 

She  said  this,  and  at  the  same  time  was  red  with 
shame,  grief,  and  anger.  She  began  to  hate  Daburon. 

"  I  had  no  such  insulting  thought  as  you  imagine, 
mademoiselle,"  said  the  magistrate.  "  I  was  only  won- 
dering why  Monsieur  de  Commarin  went  secretly  to 
your  house,  when  his  approaching  marriage  gives  him 
the  right  to  present  himself  openly,  at  all  hours.  I 
wondered  still  further,  how,  on  such  a  visit,  he  could 
get  his  clothes  in  the  condition  in  which  we  found 
them." 

"  That  is  to  say,  monsieur,"  replied  Claire  bitterly, 
"  that  you  doubt  my  word." 

"  The  circumstances  are  such,  mademoiselle, — " 

"  You  accuse  me,  then,  of  falsehood,  monsieur  ? 
Why,  were  we  criminals,  we  should  not  descend  to 
justifying  ourselves ;  we  should  never  pray  nor  ask  for 
pardon." 

The  haughty,  contemptuous  tone  of  Mademoiselle 
d'Arlanges  could  only  anger  the  judge.  How  harshly 
she  treated  him!  And  simply  because  he  would  not 
consent  to  be  her  dupe. 

"  Above  all,  mademoiselle,"  he  answered  severely,  "  I 
am  a  magistrate;  and  I  have  a  duty  to  perform.  A 
crime  has  been  committed.  Every  thing  tells  me  that 
Albert  de  Commarin  is  the  guilty  man.  I  arrest  him ; 
I  examine  him ;  and  I  find  against  him  overwhelming 
proofs.  You  come  and  tell  me  that  they  are  false ;  that 


338  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

is  not  enough.  As  long  as  you  addressed  me  as  a  friend, 
you  have  found  me  kind  and  gentle.  Now  it  is  the 
judge  to  whom  you  speak:  and  it  is  the  judge  who  re- 
plies, '  Prove  it.'  " 

"  My  word,  monsieur, — " 

"Prove  it!" 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  arose  slowly,  throwing 
upon  the  judge  a  look  filled  with  astonishment  and  sus- 
picion. 

"  Shall  you,  then,  be  glad,  monsieur,"  she  asked, 
"  to  find  Albert  guilty  ?  Will  it  give  you  pleasure  to 
convict  him?  Do  you  hate  this  prisoner,  whose  fate 
is  in  your  hands  ?  •  They  told  me  the  truth,  then.  Can 
you  talk  of  impartiality?  Do  not  certain  memories 
weigh  heavily  in  the  scale?  Are  you  sure  that  you  are 
not  armed  with  the  law,  revenging  yourself  upon  a  ri- 
val?" 

"  This  is  too  much,"  murmured  the  judge, — "  this 
is  too  much." 

"  Do  you  know  the  unusual,  the  dangerous  position 
we  are  in  at  this  moment?  One  day,  I  remember,  you 
declared  your  love  for  me.  It  appeared  to  me  sincere 
and  honest;  it  touched  me.  I  was  obliged  to  refuse 
you,  because  I  loved  another;  and  I  pitied  you.  Now 
that  other  is  accused  of  assassination ;  and  you  are  his 
judge,  and  I  between  you  stand  praying  for  him.  In 
accepting  the  duty  of  investigation,  you  seemed  to  de- 
clare in  his  favor;  and  yet  they  say  you  are  against 
him." 

Claire's  every  word  fell  upon  Daburon's  heart  like  a 
blow  on  his  face. 

Was  it  really  she  who  was  speaking?  Whence  came 
this  sudden  boldness,  which  made  her  recall  all  those 
words  which  found  an  echo  in  his  heart? 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  339 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  he,  "  your  grief  carries  you  be- 
yond yourself.  From  you  alone  could  I  pardon  what 
you  have  just  said.  Your  ignorance  of  this  matter 
makes  you  unjust.  If  you  think  that  Albert's  fate  de- 
pends upon  my  pleasure,  you  deceive  yourself.  To  con- 
vince me  is  nothing;  it  is  necessary  to  convince  others. 
That  I  should  believe  you  is  all  very  natural ;  but  what 
weight  will  others  attach  to  your  testimony,  when  you 
come  before  them  with  a  story,  true, — most  true,  I 
am  confident, — but  highly  improbable." 

Tears  came  into  Claire's  eyes. 

"  If  I  have  unjustly  offended  you,  monsieur,"  she 
said,  "  pardon  me :  my  unhappiness  makes  me  forget 
myself." 

"  You  cannot  offend  me,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the 
magistrate.  "  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  am  de- 
voted to  your  service." 

"  Then,  monsieur,  help  me  to  prove  the  truth  of  what 
I  have  said.  I  will  tell  you  every  thing." 

Daburon  was  fully  convinced  that  Claire  was  seeking 
to  deceive  him;  but  her  boldness  astonished  him. 

He  Avondered  what  fable  she  was  concocting." 

"  Monsieur,  began  Claire,  "  you  know  what  obstacles 
have  stood  in  the  way  of  my  marriage  with  Albert.  The 
Count  de  Commarin  did  not  wish  me  for  a  daughter-in- 
law,  because  I  was  poor,  because  I  possessed  nothing. 
It  took  Albert  five  years  to  triumph  over  his  father's 
objections.  Twice  the  count  yielded ;  twice  he  recalled 
the  consent  which  he  said  had  been  extorted  from  him. 
At  last,  about  a  month  ago,  he  gave  his  consent  of  his 
own  accord.  But  these  hesitations,  delays,  refusals,  had 
deeply  hurt  my  grandmamma.  You  know  her  sensitive 
character;  and  in  this  case,  I  must  confess  she  was 
right.  After  the  wedding  day  had  been  fixed,  the  mar- 


340  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

quise  declared  that  we  should  not  be  compromised  and 
laughed  at  for  any  apparent  haste  in  contracting  so  ad- 
vantageous a  marriage,  as  we  had  never  before  been 
accused  of  ambition.  She  decided,  therefore,  that,  until 
the  publication  of  the  banns,  Albert  should  only  be  ad- 
mited  into  the  house  every  other  day,  for  two  hours  in 
the  afternoon,  and  that  in  her  presence.  We  could  not 
move  her  from  this  determination.  Such  was  the  state 
of  affairs,  when,  on  Sunday  morning,  a  note  came  to 
me  from  Albert.  He  told  me  that  pressing  business 
would  prevent  his  coming,  although  that  was  his  regu- 
lar day.  What  could  have  happened  to  keep  him  away? 
(  feared  some  evil.  The  next  day  I  waited,  impatient, 
•iistracted,  until  his  valet  brought  a  note  for  me  to 
Schmidt.  In  that  letter,  monsieur,  Albert  entreated  me 
to  grant  him  a  secret  interview.  It  was  necessary,  he 
wrote,  that  he  should  have  a  long  conversation  with  me 
alone,  and  at  once.  Our  whole  future,  he  added,  de- 
pended upon  this  interview.  He  left  me  to  choose  the 
day  and  hour,  urging  me  to  confide  in  no  one.  I  did 
not  hesitate.  I  sent  him  word  to  meet  me  on  Tuesday 
evening,  at  the  little  garden  gate,  which  opened  into  an 
unoccupied  street.  To  notify  me  of  his  presence,  he 
was  to  knock  just  as  nine  o'clock  sounded  from  the 
tower  of  Les  Invalides.  I  knew  that  my  grandmother 
had  invited  a  number  of  her  friends  for  that  evening; 
and  I  thought  that,  by  pretending  a  headache,  I  might 
retire  early,  and  so  be  free.  I  knew,  also,  that  Madame 
d'Arlanges  would  keep  Schmidt  with  her." 

"  Excuse  me,  mademoiselle,"  interrupted  Daburon, 
"  what  day  did  you  write  to  Albert  ?  " 

"  Tuesday." 

"Can  you  fix  the  hour?" 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  341 

"  I  must  have  sent  the  letter  between  two  and  three 
o'clock." 

"  Thanks,  mademoiselle.  Go  on,  I  beseech  you." 
"  All  my  anticipations,"  continued  Claire,  "  were 
realized.  I  escaped  in  the  evening;  and  I  descended 
to  the  garden  a  little  before  the  appointed  time.  I  had 
procured  a  key  to  the  little  gate;  and  I  tried  to  open 
it.  Unfortunately,  I  could  not  make  it  turn,  the  lock 
was  so  rusty.  I  exerted  all  my  strength  in  vain.  I 
was  in  despair,  when  nine  o'clock  sounded.  At  the  third 
stroke,  Albert  knocked.  I  told  him  of  the  accident; 
and  I  threw  him  the  key,  that  he  might  try  and  unlock 
the  door.  He  tried  in  vain.  I  then  begged  him  to  post- 
pone our  interview  until  the  next  day.  He  replied  that 
it  was  impossible,  that  what  he  had  to  say  admitted  of 
no  delay;  that,  during  the  three  days  that  he  had  hes- 
itated about  confiding  in  me,  he  had  suffered  martyr- 
dom, and  that  he  could  endure  it  no  longer.  We  were 
speaking,  you  understand,  through  the  gate.  At  last, 
he  declared  that  he  would  climb  over  the  wall.  I  begged 
him  not  to  do  it,  fearing  an  accident.  It  was  very  high, 
you  see;  and  the  top  was  set  with  pieces  of  broken 
glass,  and  the  acacia  branches  stretched  above  like  a 
hedge.  But  he  laughed  at  my  fears,  and  said  that,  un- 
less I  made  a  vigorous  resistance,  he  was  going  to  scale 
the  wall.  I  dared  not  say  any  thing;  and  he  risked 
it.  Fortunately,  he  was  very  active,  and  got  over  with- 
out injury.  He  had  come,  monsieur,  to  tell  me  of  the 
misfortune  which  had  befallen  him.  We  were  now 
seated  upon  the  little  bank,  you  know,  opposite  the 
grove;  then,  when  the  rain  fell,  we  took  refuge  in  the 
summer  house.  It  was  after  midnight  when  Albert  left 
me,  quiet  and  happy.  He  went  back  in  the  same  man- 


342  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ner,  only  with  less  danger ;  because  I  forced  him  to  use 
the  gardener's  ladder,  which  I  laid  beside  the  wall  when 
he  was  on  the  other  side." 

This  account,  given  in  the  simplest,  most  natural 
manner,  puzzled  Daburon.  What  was  he  to  think? 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  asked,  "  had  the  rain  com- 
menced when  Albert  climbed  over  the  wall  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur ;  the  first  drops  fell  when  we  were  on 
the  bank.  I  recollect  it  very  well,  because  he  opened 
his  umbrella ;  and  I  thought  of  Paul  and  Virginia.'' 

"  Allow  me  one  moment,  mademoiselle,"  said  the 
judge. 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk,  and  rapidly  wrote  two  let- 
ters. In  the  first,  he  gave  orders  for  Albert's  presence 
in  his  office  in  the  palais  de  justice. 

In  the  second  he  ordered  a  detective  to  go  imme- 
diately to  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  to  the  d'Arlanges 
house  and  examine  the  wall  at  the  bottom  of  the  gar- 
den, and  notice  any  marks  of  its  having  been  scaled, 
if  any  such  existed.  He  explained  that  the  wall  had 
been  climbed  twice,  before  and  after  the  rain;  conse- 
quently the  marks  of  the  going  and  the  coming  would 
be  different  from  each  T)ther. 

He  enjoined  upon  this  agent  to  proceed  with  the  ut- 
most caution,  and  to  discover  a  plausible  pretext  which 
would  explain  his  investigations. 

Having  finished  writing,  the  judge  rang  for  his 
servant,  who  appeared. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  are  two  letters,  which  you  will 
take  to  my  clerk,  Constant.  Tell  him  to  read  them,  and 
to  have  the  orders  they  contain  executed  at  once, — at 
once,  you  understand.  Run,  take  a  carriage,  any  thing, 
but  go  quickly!  Ah!  one  word.  If  Constant  is  not  in 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  343 

my  office,  have  him  sought  for:  he  will  not  be  a  great 
way  off,  as  he  is  waiting  for  me.     Go  quick !  " 

Daburon  then  turned  to  Claire. 

"  Have  you  kept  the  letter,  mademoiselle,  in  which 
Albert  asked  for  this  interview  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  I  ought  to  have  it  with  me." 

She  arose,  felt  in  her  pocket,  and  drew  out  a  much 
rumpled  piece  of  paper. 

"  Here  it  is !  " 

The  judge  of  inquiry  took  it.  A  suspicion  crossed 
him.  This  compromising  letter  was  quite  conveniently 
in  Claire's  pocket;  and  yet  young  girls  do  not  usually 
thus  expose  requests  for  interviews.  At  a  glance,  he 
ran  over  the  ten  lines  of  the  note. 

"  No  date,"  he  muttered,  "  no  stamp, — nothing  at 
all." 

Claire  did  not  hear  him;  she  was  racking  her  brain 
to  find  proofs  of  the  interview. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  she  suddenly,  "  it  often  happens, 
that,  when  we  wish  to  be,  and  believe  ourselves  alone, 
we  are  nevertheless  observed.  Summon,  I  beseech  you, 
all  of  my  grandmamma's  servants,  and  inquire  if  any 
of  them  saw  Albert  that  night." 

"  Inquire  of  your  servants !  Are  you  not  dreaming, 
mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  What,  monsieur  ?  You  fear  that  I  shall  be  com- 
promised. What  of  that,  if  he  is  only  freed  ?  " 

Daburon  could  not  help  admiring  her. 

What  sublime  devotion  in  this  young  girl,  whether 
she  spoke  the  truth  or  not!  He  could  understand  her 
violence  of  an  hour  ago,  now  that  he  knew  her  charac- 
ter so  well. 

"  That  is  not  all,"  she  added ;   "  the  key  to  the  little 


344  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

gate  which  I  threw  to  Albert:  He  did  not  return  it  to 
me;  he  must  have  forgotten  it.  If  they  find  it  in  his 
possession,  that  will  well  prove  that  he  was  in  the  gar- 
den." 

"  I   will  give  the  orders,  mademoiselle." 

"  There  is  still  another  means,"  continued  Claire ; 
"  while  I  am  here,  send  to  examine  the  wall." 

She  seemed  to  think  of  every  thing. 

"  That  is  already  done,  mademoiselle,"  replied  Da- 
buron.  "  I  will  not  hide  from  you,  that  one  of  the  let- 
ters which  I  have  just  sent  off  ordered  an  examination 
of  your  grandmother's  house, — a  very  quiet  examina- 
tion, though,  be  assured." 

Claire  rose  joyfully,  and  for  the  second  time  held  out 
her  hand  to  the  judge. 

"  Oh,  thanks !  "  said  she,  "  a  thousand  thanks !  Now 
I  am  sure  that  you  are  with  me.  But  I  have  still 
another  idea:  Albert  ought  to  have  the  note  I  wrote 
on  Tuesday." 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  he  has  burned  it." 

Claire's  eyes  drooped ;  she  drew  back. 

She  imagined  a  touch  of  irony  in  the  judge's  reply. 
There  was  none,  however.  The  magistrate  remem- 
bered the  letter  thrown  into  the  fire  by  Albert  on  Tues- 
day afternoon.  It  could  be  none  other  than  this  of 
Claire's.  It  was  to  her,  then,  that  the  words,  "  She 
cannot  resist  me/'  applied.  He  understood,  now,  the 
action  and  the  remark. 

"  Do  you  know,  mademoiselle,"  he  pursued,  "  that 
M.  de  Commarin  has  led  justice  astray,  and  has  ex- 
posed me  to  a  most  deplorable  error,  when  it  would 
have  been  so  easy  to  have  told  me  all  this  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,  monsieur,  that  an  honest  man  could 
not  confess  that  he  had  obtained  an  interview  with  a 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  345 

lady,  until  he  had  obtained  full  permission  from  her 
own  lips.  He  ought  to  risk  his  life  sooner  than  the 
honor  of  her  who  has  trusted  in  him;  but  be  assured 
Albert  had  confidence  in  me." 

He  had  nothing  to  reply  to  this ;  for  the  sentiments 
expressed  by  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  gave  a  meaning 
to  some  of  Albert's  replies  in  the  examination. 

"  This  is  not  all  yet,  mademoiselle,"  continued  the 
judge ;  "all  that  you  have  told  me  here,  you  must  repeat 
in  my  office,  at  the  palais  de  justice.  My  clerk  must  take 
down  your  testimony;  and  you  must  sign  it.  This 
proceeding  will  be  painful;  but  it  is  a  necessary  for- 
mality." 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  I  will  do  it  with  pleasure.  What 
can  I  refuse,  when  I  know  that  he  is  in  prison?  I  am 
determined  to  do  every  thing.  If  I  am  needed  at  the 
court  of  assize,  I  will  go, — yes,  I  will  be  present ;  and, 
above  all  and  before  all,  I  will  speak  the  truth.  Doubt- 
less," she  added  sadly,  "  I  shall  be  much  exposed :  I 
shall  be  looked  upon  as  a  heroine  of  romance;  but 
what  matters  public  opinion,  the  blame  or  approval  of 
the  world,  since  I  am  sure  of  his  love  ?  " 

She  arose,  readjusting  her  cloak  and  the  strings  of 
her  hat. 

"  Must  I,"  she  asked,  "  await  the  return  of  those 
who  are  examining  the  wall  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  at  all  necessary,  mademoiselle." 

"  Then,"  she  continued  in  a  sweet  voice,  "  I  can  only 
beseech  you  "  (she  clasped  her  hands),  "  conjure  you  " 
(her  eyes  implored),  "  to  let  Albert  out  of  prison." 

"  He  shall  be  liberated  as  soon  as  possible ;  I  give 
you  my  word." 

"  Oh,  to-day,  dear  Monsieur  Daburon,  to-day,  I  beg 
of  you, — now,  this  moment!  Since  he  is  innocent,  be 


346  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

kind,  since  you  are  our  friend.  Do  you  wish  me  to  go 
down  on  my  knees  ?  " 

The  judge  had  only  time  to  extend  his  arms,  and  pre- 
vent her. 

He  was  choking  with  emotion,  unhappy  man ! 

Ah !  how  much  he  envied  the  prisoner's  lot ! 

"  That  which  you  ask  of  me  is  impossible,  mademoi- 
selle," said  he  tenderly,  "  impracticable,  upon  my  honor. 
Ah!  if  it  depended  upon  me  alone,  I  should  not  be 
able,  even  were  he  guilty,  to  see  you  weep,  and  to  re- 
sist." 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges,  so  firm  up  to  this  time, 
could  no  longer  restrain  her  sobs. 

"  Unhappy  man!  "  she  cried,  "  he  is  suffering;  he  is 
in  prison.  I  am  free;  and  yet  I  can  do  nothing  for 
him.  Great  heaven !  inspire  me  with  accents  to  touch 
the  heart  of  men !  At  their  feet  I  will  cast  myself  for 
pardon." 

She  suddenly  stopped,  surprised  at  having  uttered 
such  a  word. 

"  Pardon !  "  she  repeated  fiercely ;  "  he  has  no  need 
of  pardon.  Why  am  I  only  a  woman  ?  Can  I  not  find 
one  man  who  will  aid  me?  Yes,"  she  said  after  a  mo- 
ment's reflection,  "  there  is  one  man  who  owes  himself 
to  Albert ;  since  he  it  was  who  put  him  in  this  position, 
— the  Count  de  Commarin.  He  is  his  father,  and  has 
yet  abandoned  him.  Ah,  well !  I  will  remind  him  that 
he  has  a  son  still." 

The  magistrate  arose  to  see  her  to  the  door ;  but  she 
had  already  disappeared,  taking  with  her  the  good 
Schmidt. 

Daburon,  more  dead  than  alive,  sank  back  in  his 
chair.  His  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  What  a  noble  woman  she  is !  "  he  murmured.  "Ah ! 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  347 

I  made  no  vulgar  choice.  I  had  divined  and  under- 
stood all  these  good  qualities." 

He  had  never  loved  her  so  much;  and  he  felt  that 
he  should  never  be  consoled  for  not  having  won  her 
Jove  in  return.  But,  in  the  midst  of  his  meditations,  a 
sudden  thought  passed  like  a  flash  across  his  brain. 

Had  Claire  spoken  the  truth?  Had  she  not  been 
playing  a  role,  assumed  to  deceive  him  ?  No,  surely  no ! 

But  she  might  have  been  deceived, — might  have  been 
the  dupe  of  some  skilful  trick. 

Pere  Tabaret's  prediction  was  now  realized. 

Tabaret  had  said,  "  Look  out  for  an  unobjectionable 
alibi" 

How  could  he  show  the  falsity  of  this  one,  planned  in 
advance,  affirmed  by  Claire,  who  was  herself  deceived? 

How  could  he  foil  a  plan,  so  well  laid  that  the  pris- 
oner was  able  without  danger  to  await  certain  results, 
with  his  hands  bound,  and  without  himself  moving  in 
the  matter? 

And  yet,  if  Claire's  story  were  true,  and  Albert  inno- 
cent. 

The  judge  struggled  in  the  midst  of  inextricable 
difficulties,  without  a  plan,  without  an  idea. 

He  arose. 

"  Oh !  "  he  said  in  a  loud  voice,  as  though  encourag- 
ing himself,  "  at  the  palais,  all  will  be  unravelled." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

DABURON  had  been  surprised  at  Claire's  visit. 

M.  de  Commarin  was  still  more  so,  when  his  valet  de 
chambre  whispered  to  him  that  Mademoiselle  d'Ar- 
langes  asked  a  moment's  conversation  with  him. 


348  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Daburon  had  let  a  handsome  card-plate  fall ;  M.  de 
Commarin,  who  was  at  breakfast,  let  his  knife  fall. 

Like  the  judge  he  exclaimed, — 

"Claire!" 

He  hesitated  to  receive  her,  fearing  a  painful  and 
disagreeable  scene. 

She  had  had,  he  knew,  very  slight  affection  for  him, 
who  had  for  so  long  repulsed  her  with  such  obstinacy. 
What  could  she  want  with  him?  To  inquire  about 
Albert,  of  course.  And  what  could  he  reply  ? 

She  would  probably  have  some  nervous  attack  or 
other;  and  her  system,  as  well  as  his,  would  be  dis- 
turbed. 

However,  he  thought  of  the  great  grief  she  must  have 
experienced ;  and  he  pitied  her. 

He  reflected,  that  it  would  be  cruel,  as  well  as  un- 
worthy his  character,  to  keep  himself  from  her  who  was 
to  have  been  his  daughter, — the  Viscountess  de  Com- 
marin. 

He  sent  a  message,  asking  her  to  wait  one  instant  in 
the  little  salon  on  the  ground  floor. 

He  did  not  keep  her  long,  his  appetite  having  been 
destroyed  by  the  announcement  of  her  presence.  He 
was  prepared  for  any  thing  disagreeable. 

When  he  entered,  Claire  bowed  to  him  with  one  of 
those  graceful,  yet  highly  dignified  bends,  which  dis- 
tinguished the  Marquise  d'Arlanges. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  began  — 

"  You  come,  do  you  not,  my  poor  child,  to  obtain 
news  of  the  unhappy  boy  ?  "  asked  M.  de  Commarin. 

He  had  interrupted  Claire,  wishing  to  go  straight  to 
the  point,  in  order  to  get  it  the  more  quickly  over. 

"  No,  monsieur,"  replied  the  young  girl ;  "  I  come,  on 
the  contrary,  to  bring  you  news.  Albert  is  innocent." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  349 

The  count  looked  at  her  most  attentively,  persuaded 
that  grief  had  affected  her  reason ;  but  her  madness  in 
this  instance  was  very  quiet. 

"  I  have  never  doubted  it,"  continued  Claire ;  "  but 
now  I  have  the  most  positive  proofs." 

"  Do  you  feel  sure  of  what  you  have  advanced  ?  " 
inquired  the  count,  whose  eyes  betrayed  his  doubt. 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  understood  his  thoughts; 
her  interview  with  Daburon  had  given  her  experi- 
ence. 

"  I  advance  nothing  which  is  not  of  the  utmost  accu- 
racy," she  replied,  "  and  easily  proved.  I  have  just 
come  from  the  judge  of  inquiry,  Monsieur  Daburon, 
who  is  one  of  my  grandmamma's  friends;  and,  after 
what  I  have  told  him,  he  is  persuaded  that  Albert  is 
innocent." 

"  He  told  you  that,  Claire !  "  exclaimed  the  count. 
"  My  child,  are  you  sure,  are  you  not  deceiving  your- 
self?" 

"  No,  monsieur.  I  told  him  something,  of  which  the 
world  is  ignorant,  and  of  which  Albert,  who  is  a  gen- 
tleman, could  not  speak ;  I  told  him  that  Albert  passed 
with  me,  in  my  grandmamma's  garden,  all  that  even- 
ing when  the  crime  was  committed.  He  had  asked  an 
interview  of  me — " 

"  But  your  word  will  not  be  sufficient." 

"  There  are  proofs  of  it  which  Justice  has  by  this 
time." 

"  Heavens !  Is  it  really  possible  ?  "  cried  the  count, 
who  was  beside  himself. 

"Ah,  monsieur!  "  said  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  bit- 
terly, "  you  are  like  the  judge ;  you  thought  it  impossi- 
ble. You  are  his  father,  and  suspected  him.  You 
could  not  have  known  him,  then.  You  abandoned  him, 


350  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

without  trying  to  defend  him.  Ah,  I  never  doubted 
him ! " 

We  can  easily  be  induced  to  believe  true  what  we 
are  anxiously  longing  for.  M.  de  Commarin  was  not 
difficult  to  convince.  Without  reasons,  without  dis- 
cussion, he  put  faith  in  Claire's  assertions.  He  shared 
her  convictions,  without  asking  whether  they  were  wise 
or  prudent. 

Yes,  he  had  been  overcome  by  the  positiveness  of  the 
judge :  he  had  acknowledged  the  improbability  of  his 
son's  innocence;  and  he  had  bowed  his  head.  One 
word  from  this  young  girl  restored  him.  Albert  inno- 
cent? This  thought  descended  upon  his  heart  like  dew 
from  heaven. 

Claire  appeared  to  him  a  messenger  bringing  sun- 
shine and  hope. 

During  the  last  three  days,  he  had  discovered  how 
great  his  affection  for  Albert  was.  He  had  loved  him 
tenderly;  for  he  had  never  been  able  to  discard  him, 
in  spite  of  his  frightful  suspicions  about  his  pater- 
nity. 

For  three  days,  the  remembrance  of  the  crime  in- 
puted  to  the  unhappy  boy,  the  thought  of  the  punish- 
ment which  awaited  him,  had  nearly  killed  him ;  and 
now  he  was  innocent ! 

No  more  shame,  no  more  scandal,  no  more  stains 
upon  the  escutcheon ;  the  name  of  Commarin  would  no 
longer  resound  before  the  tribunals. 

"  But  now,  mademoiselle,"  demanded  the  count, 
"  are  they  going  to  release  him  ?  " 

"  Alas !  monsieur,  I  demanded  that  they  should  at 
once  place  him  at  liberty.  It  is  just,  is  it  not?  since 
he  is  not  guilty?  But  the  judge  only  replied  that  it 
was  not  possible ;  that  he  was  not  the  master ;  that 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  351 

Albert's  fate  depended  on  many  others.  It  was  then 
that  I  resolved  to  come  to  you  for  aid." 

"Is  there  any  thing  in  my  power?" 

"  I  at  least  hope  so.  I  am  only  a  poor  girl,  very  ig- 
norant; and  I  know  no  one  in  the  world.  I  do  not 
know  what  can  be  done  in  behalf  of  a  man  unjustly 
detained  in  prison.  There  ought,  however,  to  be  some 
means  for  obtaining  justice  for  him.  Will  you  not 
try  what  can  be  done,  monsieur,  you,  who  are  his 
father?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  M.  de  Commarin  quickly, — "  yes,  and 
without  a  moment's  loss." 

Since  Albert's  arrest,  the  count  had  been  plunged  in 
a  dull  stupor.  In  his  profound  grief,  seeing  about  him 
only  ruin  and  disaster,  he  had  done  nothing  to  shake  off 
this  mental  paralysis.  Ordinarily  very  active,  he  sat 
all  day  now  without  moving.  He  congratulated  him- 
self that  his  condition  prevented  his  feeling  the  im- 
mensity of  his  misfortune.  Claire's  voice  sounded  in 
'his  ear  like  the  resurrection  trumpet.  The  frightful 
darkness  was  dispelted;  he  saw  a  glimmering  in  the 
horizon ;  he  recovered  the  energy  of  his  youth. 

"  Let  us  go,"  he  said. 

But  suddenly  the  radiance  in  his  face  changed  to 
sadness,  mixed  with  anger. 

"  But  yet,"  he  said,  "  where  ?  At  what  door  shall 
we  knock  with  any  hope  of  success?  In  the  olden 
times,  I  should  seek  the  king;  but  to-day  the  emperor 
will  not  interfere  with  the  law.  He  will  tell  me  to 
await  the  decision  of  the  tribunals,  that  he  can  do  noth- 
ing. Wait.  And  Albert  is  counting  the  minutes  in 
mortal  agony!  We  shall  certainly  obtain  justice;  but 
to  do  it  promptly  is  an  art  taught  in  schools  that  I 
have  not  frequented." 


352  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Let  us  try,  at  least,  monsieur/'  persisted  Claire. 
"  Let  us  seek  out  judges,  generals,  ministers.  Only 
lead  me  to  them.  I  will  speak;  and  you  shall  see  if 
we  do  not  succeed." 

The  count  took  Claire's  little  hands  between  his  own, 
and  held  them  a  moment  pressing  them  with  paternal 
tenderness. 

"  Brave  girl !  "  he  cried ;  "  you  are  a  noble,  cour- 
ageous woman,  Claire.  Good  blood  never  fails.  I 
should  not  have  known  you.  Yes,  you  shall  be  my 
daughter;  and  you  shall  be  happy  together, — Albert 
and  you.  But  we  mustn't  rush  about  everywhere,  like 
wild  geese.  We  need  some  one  to  point  out  whom  we 
should  address, — some  guide,  advocate,  notary.  Ah !  " 
he  cried,  "  I  have  it, — Noel." 

Claire  raised  her  eyes  to  the  count's  in  surprise. 

"  He  is  my  son,"  replied  M.  de  Commarin,  evidently 
embarrassed, — "  my  other  son,  Albert's  brother, — the 
best  and  worthiest  of  men,"  he  added,  repeating  quite 
appropriately  a  phrase  already  used  by  Daburon.  "  He 
is  an  advocate ;  he  knows  all  about  the  palais ;  he  will 
guide  us." 

Noel's  name,  thus  thrown  into  the  midst  of  this  con- 
versation so  full  of  hope,  oppressed  Claire's  heart. 

The  count  perceived  her  affright. 

"  Don't  feel  anxious,  dear  child,"  he  said.  "  Noel  is 
good ;  and  I  will  tell  you  more,  loves  Albert.  Do  not 
shake  your  head  so ;  Noel  told  me  himself,  on  this  very 
spot,  that  he  did  not  believe  Albert  guilty.  He  de- 
clared that  he  intended  doing  every  thing  to  dispel  the 
fatal  mistake,  and  that  he  would  be  his  advocate." 

These  assertions  did  not  seem  to  reassure  the  young 
girl.  She  said  to  herself,  "  What  has  this  Noel  accom- 
plished for  Albert  ?  "  She  could  think  of  nothing. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  353 

"  I  will  send  for  him,"  said  M.  de  Commarin ;  "  he 
is  now  with  Albert's  mother,  who  brought  him  up,  and 
who  is  now  on  her  death-bed." 

"Albert's  mother?" 

"  Yes,  my  child.  Albert  will  explain  to  you  what 
may  perhaps  seem  to  you  an  enigma.  Now  time 
presses.  But  I  think — " 

He  stopped  suddenly.  He  thought,  that,  instead  of 
sending  for  Noel  at  Madame  Gerdy's,  he  might  go 
there  himself.  He  should  thus  see  Valerie !  and  he 
had  longed  to  see  her  again  so  much! 

It  was  one  of  those  actions  which  the  heart  urges,  but 
which  we  do  not  dare  risk ;  because  a  thousand  subtle 
reasons  and  interests  are  against  it. 

We  wish,  we  desire,  we  long  for  it;  and  yet  we 
struggle,  combat,  resist.  But,  if  an  opportunity  occurs, 
we  are  only  too  happy  to  seize  it;  then  we  have,  at 
least,  one  excuse  to  silence  our  conscience. 

In  thus  yielding  every  thing  to  the  impulse  of  our 
feelings,  we  can  say,  "  It  was  not  I  who  wished  it ;  it 
was  fate." 

"  It  will  be  better,  perhaps,"  observed  the  count,  "  to 
go  to  Noel." 

"  Let  us  start  then,  monsieur." 

"  I  hardly  know,  my  child,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
hesitating,  "  whether  I  may,  whether  I  ought,  to  take 
you  with  me.  Propriety — " 

"Ah,  monsieur,  why  talk  of  propriety?"  replied 
Claire,  impetuously.  "  With  you,  and  for  his  sake,  I 
can  go  anywhere.  Is  it  not  indispensable  that  I  should 
give  the  circumstances  ?  Only  send  word  to  my  grand- 
mamma by  Schmidt,  who  will  come  back  here  and 
await  my  return.  I  am  ready,  monsieur." 

"  Well,"  said  the  count. 


354  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Then,  ringing  so  violently  that  he  broke  the  bell  cord, 
he  cried,  "  My  carriage !  " 

In  descending  the  stairway,  he  insisted  upon  Claire's 
taking  his  arm.  The  gallant  and  elegant  politeness  of 
the  Count  d'Artois  reappeared. 

"  You  have  taken  off  twenty  years  from  my  age/'  he 
said ;  "  it  is  fit  that  I  should  do  homage  for  the  youth 
you  have  given  me." 

When  Claire  had  entered  the  carriage,  "  Rue  St. 
Lazare,"  he  said  to  the  footman,  "  quick !  " 

Whenever  the  count  said,  on  entering  his  carriage, 
"  quick,"  the  foot-passengers  had  to  get  out  of  the  way. 
But  the  coachman  was  a  skilful  driver;  and  they  ar- 
rived without  accident. 

Aided  by  the  directions  of  the  porter,  the  count  and 
the  young  girl  went  towards  Madame  Gerdy's  apart- 
ment. The  count  mounted  slowly,  holding  tightly  to 
the  railing,  stopping  at  each  landing  to  breathe.  He 
was,  then,  to  see  her  again.  This  emotion  pressed  his 
heart  like  a  vise. 

"  Noel  Gerdy  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  maid. 

The  advocate  had  just  that  moment  gone  out.  She 
did  not  know  where  he  had  gone;  but  he  had  said  he 
should  not  be  out  more  than  half  an  hour. 

"  We  will  wait  for  him,  then,"  said  the  count. 

He  advanced;  and  the  maid  drew  back  to  let  them 
pass.  Noel  had,  in  so  many  words,  forbidden  her  to 
admit  any  visitors;  but  the  Count  de  Commarin  was 
one  of  those  whose  appearance  makes  servants  forget 
all  their  orders. 

Three  persons  were  in  the  room  when  the  maid  in- 
troduced the  Count  and  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges. 

There  was  the  parish  priest,  the  doctor,  and  a  tall 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  355 

man,  an  officer  of  the  legion  of  honor,  whose  carriage 
and  figure  indicated  the  veteran. 

They  were  conversing  near  the  mantel ;  and  the  ar- 
rival of  strangers  appeared  to  astonish  them. 

In  bowing,  in  response  to  M.  de  Commarin's  and 
Claire's  salute,  they  seemed  to  inquire  their  business; 
but  the  hesitation  was  brief:  the  soldier  offered  Made- 
moiselle d'Arlanges  a  chair. 

The  count  saw  that  his  presence  was  inopportune; 
and  he  felt  called  upon  to  introduce  himself,  and  ex- 
plain his  visit. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  messieurs,"  said  he,  "  if  I  am 
inconsiderate.  I  need  not  tell  you,  that,  in  asking  per- 
mission to  await  Noel,  I  have  the  most  pressing  need 
of  seeing  him.  I  am  the  Count  de  Commarin." 

At  this  name,  the  old  soldier  left  the  chair  whose 
back  he  still  held,  and  assumed  all  the  haughtiness  of 
his  profession.  An  angry  light  flashed  in  his  eyes ;  and 
he  made  a  threatening  gesture.  His  lips  moved,  as  if 
he  were  about  to  speak ;  but  he  restrained  himself,  and 
retired,  his  head  bowed,  to  the  window. 

Neither  the  count  nor  the  others  remarked  these  vari- 
ous movements ;  but  they  did  not  escape  Claire. 

While  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  sat  down,  confused, 
the  count,  also  much  embarrassed  at  his  position,  ap- 
proached the  priest,  and  in  a  low  voice  asked, — 

"  What  is,  I  beseech  you,  Monsieur  1'Abbe,  Madame 
Gerdy's  condition  ?  " 

The  doctor,  who  had  a  sharp  ear,  heard  the  question, 
and  approached  quickly. 

It  was  very  pleasant  to  speak  to  a  personage  as  cele- 
brated as  the  Count  de  Commarin,  and  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  him. 


356  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  I  fear,  monsieur,"  he  said,  "  that  she  cannot  live 
another  day." 

The  count  pressed  his  hand  against  his  forehead,  as 
though  he  had  felt  a  sudden  pain.  He  hesitated  to 
inquire  further. 

After  a  moment  of  chilling  silence,  he  resolved  to 
go  on. 

"  Does  she  recognize  her  friends  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"  No,  monsieur.  Since  last  evening,  however,  there 
has  been  a  great  change.  She  was  very  uneasy  all 
last  night :  she  had  moments  of  fierce  delirium.  About 
an  hour  ago,  we  thought  she  was  recovering  her  senses ; 
and  we  sent  for  the  priest." 

"  Very  useless,  though,"  put  in  the  priest ;  "  it  is  a 
sad  misfortune.  Her  reason  is  quite  gone,  poor  woman ! 
I  have  known  her  ten  years.  I  have  seen  her  nearly 
every  week;  and  I  never  knew  a  more  excellent 
woman." 

"  She  must  suffer  dreadfully,"  said  the  doctor. 

Almost  on  the  instant,  and  as  if  to  bear  out  the  doc- 
tor's words,  they  heard  stifled  cries  from  the  next  room, 
the  door  of  which  was  open. 

"Did  you  hear?"  exclaimed  the  count,  trembling 
from  head  to  foot. 

Claire  understood  nothing  of  this  strange  scene. 
Dark  presentiments  oppressed  her;  she  felt  as  though 
she  were  enveloped  by  an  atmosphere  of  evil.  She  grew 
frightened,  and  drew  near  the  count. 

"  Is  she  really  there?  "  asked  M.  de  Commarin. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  harshly  answered  the  old  soldier 
who  had  come  near,  "  she  is." 

At  another  time,  the  count  would  have  noticed  the 
soldier's  tone,  and  have  resented  it.  Now,  he  did  not 
even  raise  his  eyes.  He  remained  insensible  to  every 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  357 

thing.  Was  she  not  there,  two  steps  from  him?  His 
thoughts  were  in  the  past;  it  seemed  to  him  but  yes- 
terday that  he  had  quitted  her  for  the  last  time. 

"  I  should  much  like  to  see  her,"  he  said  timidly. 

"  That  is  impossible,"  replied  the  old  soldier. 

"  Why  ?  "  stammered  the  count. 

"  At  least,  Monsieur  de  Commarin,"  replied  the  sol- 
dier, "  let  her  die  in  peace." 

The  count  started,  as  if  he  had  been  struck.  His 
eyes  encountered  those  of  the  veteran's;  they  fell  like 
a  criminal's  before  his  judge. 

"  Nothing  need  prevent  monsieur's  entering  Madame 
Gerdy's  room,"  put  in  the  doctor,  who  purposely  saw 
nothing  of  all  this.  "  She  would  probably  not  notice 
his  presence ;  and  if — " 

"  Oh,  she  would  perceive  nothing ! "  said  the  priest. 
"  I  have  just  spoken  to  her,  taken  her  hand :  she  is  still 
insensible." 

The  old  soldier  reflected  deeply. 

"  Enter,"  said  he  at  last  to  the  count ;  "  perhaps  it  is 
God's  will." 

The  count  tottered,  so  that  the  doctor  sprang  forward 
to  assist  him.  He  gently  pushed  him  away. 

The  doctor  and  the  priest  entered  with  him ;  Claire 
and  the  old  soldier  remained  at  the  threshold  of  the 
door,  opposite  the  bed. 

The  count  took  three  or  four  steps,  and  was  obliged 
to  stop.  He  wished,  but  could  not  go  further. 

Could  this  dying  woman  really  be  Valerie? 

He  had  to  tax  his  memory  severely :  nothing  in  those 
withered  features,  nothing  in  that  troubled  face,  re- 
called the  beautiful,  the  adored  Valerie  of  his  youth. 
He  did  not  even  know  her. 

But  she  knew  him,  or  rather  divined,  felt  his  pres- 


358  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

ence.  Moved  by  a  supernatural  force,  she  raised 
herself,  exposing  her  shoulders  and  emaciated  arms. 
With  a  violent  gesture,  she  pushed  away  the  ice  from 
her  forehead,  throwing  back  her  still  plentiful  hair, 
bathed  with  perspiration,  which  fell  upon  the  pillow. 

"Guy!"  she  cried.     "Guy!" 

The  count  trembled  a)l  over. 

He  stood  more  immovable  than  those  unhappy  peo- 
ple, who,  according  to  popular  belief,  when  struck  by 
lightning  remain  standing,  but  crumble  into  dust  if 
touched. 

He  did  not  perceive  that  which  immediately  struck 
all  others  present, —  the  transformation  in  the  sick 
woman.  Her  contracted  features  relaxed :  a  celestial 
joy  spread  over  her  face;  and  her  eyes,  hollowed 
by  disease,  assumed  an  expression  of  infinite  tender- 
ness. 

"  Guy,"  said  she  in  a  voice  heart-breaking  by  its 
sweetness,  "  you  have  come  at  last !  How  long,  O  my 
God !  I  have  waited  for  you !  You  cannot  think  what 
I  have  suffered  in  your  absence.  I  was  dying  of  grief, 
without  one  hope  of  seeing  you  again.  They  have  kept 
you  from  me.  Who,  who  was  it  ?  Your  relations  still  ? 
Cruel,  cruel !  Did  you  not  tell  them  that  no  one  could 
love  you  here  below  as  I  did?  No;  that  was  not  it. 
I,  I  forget.  I, — were  you  not  angry  when  you  left  me? 
Your  friends  wished  to  separate  us ;  they  said  that  I 
drew  you  away  from  her.  Who  have  I  injured  that 
I  should  have  so  many  enemies  ?  They  envied  my  hap- 
piness ;  and  we  were  so  happy !  But  you  did  not  be- 
lieve the  wicked  calumny :  you  scorned  it ;  for  are  you 
not  here  ?  " 

The  nun,  who  had  risen  on  seeing  so  many  enter  the 
sick  room,  now  opened  her  eyes  with  astonishment. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  359 

"  I  betray  you  ?  "  continued  the  dying  woman,  ap- 
parently wild  at  the  thought.  "  Was  I  not  yours,  your 
own,  heart  and  soul?  To  me  you  were  every  thing; 
and  there  was  nothing  I  could  expect  or  hope  from  an- 
other which  you  had  not  already  given  me.  Was  I  not 
yours,  body  and  soul,  from  the  first  ?  I  never  hesitated 
to  give  myself  entirely  to  you;  I  felt  that  I  was  born 
for  you.  Guy,  can  you  forget  that?  I  was  working 
for  a  lace-maker,  and  was  barely  earning  a  living.  You 
told  me  that  you  were  a  poor  student;  and  I  felt  that 
you  were  depriving  yourself  for  my  sake.  You  wished 
to  fit  up  our  little  cottage  at  St.  Michael.  It  was  lovely, 
with  its  fresh  paper  all  covered  with  flowers,  which  we 
ourselves  hung.  How  delightful  it  was!  From  the 
window,  there  was  a  view  of  the  great  trees  at  the  Tuil- 
eries;  and,  by  a  little  imagination,  we  could  see  the 
setting  sun  through  the  arches  of  the  bridge.  Oh,  those 
happy  times !  The  first  time  that  we  walked  out  into 
the  country  together,  one  Sunday,  you  brought  me 
a  more  beautiful  dress  than  I  had  ever  dreamed  of,  and 
boots  so  tiny  that  it  was  a  shame  to  walk  in  them.  But 
you  had  deceived  me;  you  were  not  a  poor  student. 
One  day,  in  taking  my  work  home,  I  met  you  in  an 
elegant  carriage,  behind  which  rode  tall  footmen  in  a 
livery  covered  with  gold.  I  could  not  believe  my  eyes. 
That  evening  you  told  me  the  truth,  that  you  were  a 
noble  of  great  wealth.  O  my  darling!  why  did  you 
tell  me?" 

Had  she  her  reason,  or  was  this  delirium  which  was 
speaking. 

Great  tears  rolled  down  the  wrinkled  face  of  the 
Count  de  Commarin ;  and  the  doctor  and  priest  won- 
dered at  this  sad  spectacle  of  an  old  man  weeping  like 
a  child. 


360  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Last  evening  only,  the  count  had  thought  his  heart 
dead;  and  now  this  voice,  sinking  into  his  heart,  was 
sufficient  to  recall  the  fresh,  powerful  feelings  of  his 
youth.  How  many  years  had  passed  away  since! 

"  Then,"  continued  Madame  Gerdy,  "  we  left  St. 
Michael.  You  wished  it ;  and  I  obeyed,  in  spite  of  my 
apprehensions.  You  told  me,  that,  to  please  you,  I 
must  resemble  the  great  ladies.  You  provided  teachers 
for  me ;  for  I  had  been  so  ignorant  that  I  scarcely  knew 
how  to  sign  my  name.  Do  you  remember  the  queer 
spelling  in  my  first  letter?  Ah  Guy,  if  you  had  only 
been  really  a  poor  student!  When  I  knew  that  you 
were  so  rich,  I  lost  my  simplicity,  my  thoughtlessness, 
my  gayety.  I  feared  that  you  would  think  me  covetous, 
— that  you  would  imagine  that  your  fortune  influenced 
my  love.  Men,  who,  like  you,  have  millions,  must  be 
very  unhappy.  They  must  be  always  doubting  and  full 
of  suspicions;  they  can  never  be  sure  whether  it  is 
themselves  or  their  gold  which  is  loved :  and  this  makes 
them  defiant,  jealous,  cruel.  Oh,  my  dearest !  why  did 
we  leave  our  "ittle  cottage?  There  we  were  happy. 
Why  did  you  not  leave  me  always  where  you  had 
found  me?  Did  you  not  know  that  the  sight  of  hap- 
piness irritates  mankind?  If  we  had  been  wise,  we 
should  have  hid  our  happiness  like  a  crime.  You 
thought  to  raise  me;  you  only  sunk  me  lower.  You 
were  proud  of  our  love;  you  published  it  abroad. 
Vainly  I  asked  you  in  mercy  to  leave  me  in  obscurity, 
and  unknown.  Soon  the  whole  town  knew  that  I  was 
your  mistress.  It  was  reported,  in  your  own  circles, 
that  you  were  ruining  yourself  for  me.  How  I  blushed 
at  the  flaunting  luxury  you  thrust  upon  me !  You 
were  satisfied,  because  my  beauty  became  celebrated; 
I  wept  because  my  shame  became  so,  too.  X,iey  talked 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  361 

about  me,  as  about  women  who  make  their  lovers  com- 
mit the  greatest  follies.  Was  not  my  name  in  the 
papers?  And  it  was  through  the  same  papers  that  I 
learned  of  your  approaching  marriage.  Unhappy 
woman!  I  should  have  fled  from  you;  but  I  had  not 
the  courage.  I  resigned  myself,  without  an  effort,  to 
the  most  humiliating,  the  most  shameful  of  lots.  You 
were  married;  and  I  continued  your  mistress.  Oh, 
what  anguish  I  suffered  during  that  terrible  evening! 
I  was  alone  in  my  own  house,  in  that  room  so  asso- 
ciated with  you;  and  you  were  marrying  another.  I 
said  to  myself,  '  At  this  moment,  a  pure,  noble  young 
girl  is  giving  herself  to  him.'  I  said  again,  '  What 
oaths  is  that  mouth,  which  has  so  often  pressed  my  lips, 
now  taking?'  Often  since  that  dreadful  misfortune, 
I  have  asked  the  good  God  what  crime  I  had  committed 
that  I  should  be  so  terribly  punished?  This  was  the 
crime.  I  continued  your  mistress,  and  your  wife  died. 
I  had  only  seen  her  once,  and  then  scarcely  for  a  mo- 
ment; but  she  looked  at  you;  and  I  knew  that  she 
loved  as  only  I  could.  And,  Guy,  it  was  our  love  that 
killed  her!" 

She  stopped  exhausted :  but  none  of  the  bystanders 
moved.  They  listened  breathlessly,  and  waited  with 
feverish  emotion  for  her  to  resume. 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  had  not  strength  to  re- 
main standing;  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  pressed 
her  handkerchief  to  her  mouth  to  keep  back  her  sobs. 
Was  not  this  Albert's  mother? 

The  worthy  sister  was  alone  unmoved ;  she  had  seen, 
she  said  to  herself,  many  such  deliriums  before.  She 
understood  absolutely  nothing  of  the  scene. 

"  These  people  are  very  foolish,"  she  thought,  "  to 
pay  so  much  attention  to  the  ramblings  of  insanity." 


362  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

She  thought  she  had  more  sense  than  the  others.  Ap- 
proaching the  bed  she  began  to  cover  the  sick  woman. 

"  Come,  madame,"  said  she,  "  cover  yourself,  or  you 
will  catch  cold." 

"  Sister !  "  remonstrated  the  doctor  and  the  priest  at 
the  same  moment. 

"  Jupiter  Ammon ! "  cried  the  soldier,  "  let  her 
speak." 

"  Who,"  continued  the  sick  woman,  unconscious  of 
all  that  was  passing  about  her, — "  who  can  tell  what  I 
have  endured?  Oh,  the  wretches!  They  set  spies 
upon  me;  they  discovered  that  an  officer  came  fre- 
quently to  see  me.  That  officer  was  my  brother,  my 
dear  Louis.  When  he  was  eighteen  years  old,  getting 
no  work,  he  enlisted,  saying  to  mother,  that  there  would 
now  be  one  mouth  less  in  the  family.  He  was  a  good 
soldier;  and  the  officers  always  liked  him.  He  joined 
his  regiment :  he  taught  himself ;  and  he  gradually  rose 
in  rank.  He  was  promoted  to  lieutenant,  captain,  and 
finally  became  major.  Louis  always  loved  me ;  but  I 
seldom  saw  him.  He  was  a  non-commissioned  officer 
when  he  first  knew  that  I  had  a  lover;  and  he  was  so 
enraged  that  I  feared  he  would  never  forgive  me.  But 
he  did  forgive  me,  saying  that  my  constancy  in  my 
wrong  was  its  only  excuse.  Ah,  my  friend,  he  was 
more  jealous  of  your  honor  than  you  yourself!  He 
came  to  see  me  in  secret,  because  I  had  placed  him  in 
the  unhappy  position  of  blushing  for  his  sister.  My 
name  never  passed  his  lips.  Could  a  brave  soldier  con- 
fess that  his  sister  was  the  mistress  of  a  count?  That 
it  might  not  be  known,  I  took  the  utmost  precautions, 
but  alas!  only  to  make  you  doubt  me.  When  Louis 
knew  what  was  said,  he  wished,  in  his  blind  rage,  to 
challenge  you ;  and  then  I  was  obliged  to  prove  to  him 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  363 

that  he  had  no  right  to  defend  me.  What  misery! 
Ah,  I  have  paid  dearly  for  my  years  of  stolen  happi- 
ness !  But  you  are  here ;  and  all  is  forgotten ;  for  you 
do  believe  me,  do  you  not,  Guy?  I  will  call  Louis.  He 
will  come:  he  will  tell  you  that  I  do  not  lie;  and  you 
cannot  doubt  his,  a  soldier's  word." 

"  Yes,  on  my  honor,"  spoke  the  old  soldier,  "  what 
my  sister  says  is  the  truth." 

The  dying  woman  did  not  hear  him ;  she  continued 
in  a  voice  panting  with  weariness, — 

"  How  your  presence  revives  me !  I  feel  that  I  am 
growing  stronger.  I  have  been  sick.  I  do  not  de- 
serve to  be  happy  to-day ;  but  embrace  me !  " 

She  held  out  her  hands,  and  raised  her  lips  as  if  to 
kiss  him. 

"  But  it  is  on  one  condition,  Guy,  that  you  will  leave 
me  my  child.  Oh !  I  beg  you,  I  entreat  you  not  to  take 
him  from  me;  leave  him  to  me.  What  is  a  mother 
without  her  son?  You  are  anxious  to  give  him  an 
illustrious  name,  an  immense  fortune.  No.  You  tell 
me  that  this  sacrifice  will  be  for  his  good.  No.  My 
child  is  mine;  I  will  protect  him.  The  world  has  no 
honors,  no  riches,  which  can  replace  a  mother's  care 
beside  the  cradle.  You  wish  by  the  exchange,  to  give  me 
another's  child.  Never !  What,  shall  that  woman  embrace 
my  boy?  No,  no.  Take  away  this  strange  child  from 
me;  it  fills  me  with  horror.  I  want  my  own  Noel! 
Ah,  do  not  insist,  do  not  threaten  me  with  your  anger ! 
Don't  leave  me.  I  yield,  and  then  I  will  die.  Guy, 
give  up  this  fatal  purpose;  the  thought  alone  is 
crime.  Cannot  my  prayers,  my  tears,  can  nothing  move 
you?  Ah,  well,  God  will  punish  us  in  our  old  age. 
All  will  be  discovered.  The  day  will  come  when  these 
children  will  demand  a  fearful  reckoning.  Guy,  I 


364  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

foresee  the  future ;  I  see  my  son  coming  to  me,  justly 
angered.  What  does  he  say?  Great  heaven!  Oh, 
those  letters,  those  letters,  sweet  memories  of  our  love ! 
My  son,  he  threatens  me!  He  strikes  me!  Ah,  help! 
A  son  strike  his  mother !  Tell  no  one  of  it :  don't  let  it 
ever  be  known.  God,  what  torture!  He  knows  well 
that  I  am  his  mother.  He  pretends  not  to  believe  me. 
This  is  too  much!  Guy,  pardon,  oh,  my  dearest!  I 
had  not  power  to  resist,  nor  the  courage  to  obey  you." 

At  this  moment  the  door  leading  to  the  stairway 
opened,  and  Noel  appeared,  pale  as  usual,  but  calm  and 
composed. 

The  dying  woman  saw  him ;  and  it  affected  her  like 
an  electric  shock. 

A  terrible  trembling  shook  her  whole  body ;  her  eyes 
grew  inordinately  large;  her  hair  seemed  to  stand  on 
end.  She  raised  herself  on  her  elbows,  pointed  at 
Noel  and  in  a  loud  voice  exclaimed, — 

"Assassin !  " 

Convulsively  she  fell  back  on  the  bed.  They 
hastened  forward :  she  was  dead. 

A  deep  silence  prevailed. 

Such  is  the  majesty  of  death,  and  the  terror  which  ac- 
companies it,  that,  before  it,  even  the  strongest  and 
most  skeptical  bow  their  heads. 

For  an  instant,  passions  and  interests  are  forgotten. 
Involuntarily  we  are  drawn  together,  when  some 
mutual  friend  breathes  his  last  in  our  presence. 

All  the  bystanders  were  deeply  moved  by  this  painful 
scene,  this  last  confession,  wrested  from  a  delirious  and 
unhappy  woman. 

But  the  last  word  uttered  by  Madame  Gerdy,  "As- 
sassin I  "  surprised  no  one. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  365 

All,  with  the  exception  of  the  nun,  knew  of  the  un- 
happy accusation  which  had  been  made  against  Albert. 

To  him  they  applied  the  malediction  of  the  unfor- 
tunate mother. 

Noel  appeared  to  totter.  Kneeling  near  the  bedside 
of  her  who  had  been  as  a  mother  to  him,  he  took  one 
of  her  hands,  and  pressed  it  close  to  his  lips. 

"  Dead !  "  he  groaned ;  "  she  is  dead !  " 

By  his  side,  the  nun  and  the  priest  knelt,  and  repeated 
in  a  low  voice  the  prayers  for  the  dead. 

They  implored  God  to  shed  his  peace  and  mercy  on 
this  departed  soul. 

They  begged  for  a  little  happiness  in  heaven  for  her 
who  had  suffered  so  much  on  this  earth. 

Falling  into  a  chair,  his  head  back,  the  Count  de 
Commarin  was  more  overwhelmed,  more  livid,  than  this 
dead  woman,  his  old  love,  once  so  beautiful. 

Claire  and  the  doctor  pressed  toward  him. 

They  undid  his  cravat,  and  opened  the  collar  of  his 
shirt,  or  he  would  have  suffocated. 

With  the  help  of  the  old  soldier,  whose  red,  tearful 
eye  told  of  suppressed  grief,  they  moved  the  count's 
chair  to  the  half-opened  window  for  a  little  air.  Three 
days  before,  this  scene  would  have  killed  him. 

But  the  heart  grows  hardened  by  misfortune,  as 
hands  by  labor. 

"  Tears  would  relieve  him,"  whispered  the  doctor  to 
Claire. 

M.  de  Commarin  gradually  recovered,  and,  with 
clearness  of  thought,  returned  the  intensity  of  suffer- 
ing. 

The  prostration  was  followed  by  great  struggl  ,-s  in 
his  mind.  Nature  seemed  striving  to  sustain  the  mis- 


366  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

fortune.  We  never  feel  the  entire  shock  at  once;  it  is 
only  afterwards  that  we  realize  the  extent  and  profun- 
dity of  any  misfortune. 

The  count's  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  bed  where  lay 
Valerie's  body.  There,  then,  was  all  that  remained  of 
her.  The  soul — that  soul,  so  devoted,  so  tender — had 
flown. 

What  would  he  not  give  if  God  would  but  return 
that  unfortunate  woman  for  a  day,  for  only  an  hour  of 
life  and  reason?  With  what  transports  of  repentance 
would  he  cast  himself  at  her  feet,  to  implore  pardon, 
to  tell  her  how  much  horror  he  had  for  his  past  con- 
duct. How  he  had  misunderstood  the  inexhaustible 
love  of  that  angel !  Upon  a  suspicion,  without  deigning 
to  inquire,  without  hearing  her,  he  had  crushed  her 
with  his  cold  contempt:  Why  had  he  not  investigated 
the  matter?  He  would  have  spared  himself  twenty 
years  of  doubt  as  to  Albert's  birth.  Instead  of  an 
isolated  existence,  he  would  have  had  a  happy,  joyous 
life. 

Then  he  recalled  the  death  of  the  countess.  She  also 
had  loved,  even  to  her  death. 

He  had  not  understood  them;  he  had  killed  them 
both. 

The  hour  of  expiation  had  come;  and  he  could  not 
say  "  Lord,  the  punishment  is  too  great." 

And  yet,  what  punishment,  what  wretchedness,  dur- 
ing the  last  five  days ! 

"  Yes,"  he  stammered,  "  she  predicted  it.  Why  did 
I  not  listen  to  her  ?  " 

Madame  Gerdy's  brother  pitied  the  old  man,  so  se- 
verely tried.  He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Monsieur  de  Commarin,"  he  said,  in  a  grave,  sad 
voice,  "  my  sister  pardoned  you  long  ago,  even  if  she 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  367 

ever  had  an  ill  feeling  against  you.     It  is  my  turn  to- 
day ;  I  forgive  you  sincerely." 

"  Thanks,  monsieur,"  murmured  the  count, — 
"  thanks !  "  and  then  added  "  dead !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Claire,  "  she  breathed  her  last  in  the  idea 
that  her  son  was  guilty.  And  you  did  not  undeceive 
her." 

"  At  least  her  son,"  cried  the  count,  "  should  be  free 
to  render  her  his  last  duties ;  yes,  he  must  be.  Noel !  " 

The  advocate  had  drawn  near  his  father,  and  had 
heard  all. 

"  I  have  promised,  father,"  he  replied,  "  to  save  him." 

For  the  first  time,  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  was  face 
to  face  with  Noel.  Their  eyes  met;  and  she  could  not 
restrain  a  movement  of  repugnance,  which  the  advo- 
cate perceived. 

"  Albert  is  already  saved,"  she  said  bitterly :  "  What 
we  ask  is,  that  prompt  justice  shall  be  done  him ;  that  he 
shall  be  immediately  set  at  liberty.  The  judge  now 
knows  the  truth." 

"  The  truth  ?  "  exclaimed  the  advocate. 

"  Yes ;  Albert  passed  at  my  house,  with  me,  the  even- 
ing the  crime  was  committed." 

Noel  looked  at  her  surprised :  so  singular  a  confes- 
sion from  such  a  mouth,  without  explanation,  might 
well  surprise  him. 

She  drew  herself  up  haughtily. 

"  I  am  Mademoiselle  Claire  d'Arlanges,  monsieur," 
she  said. 

M.  de  Commarin  now  quickly  ran  over  all  the  inci- 
dents reported  by  Claire. 

When  he  had  finished, — 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Noel,  "  you  see  my  position ; 
leave  this  until  to-morrow." 


368  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  To-morrow !  "  interrupted  the  count  indignantly, 
"  you  said,  I  believe,  to-morrow !  Honor  demands, 
monsieur  that  we  act  to-day,  this  moment.  You  can 
do  honor  to  this  poor  woman  much  better  by  deliver- 
ing her  son  than  by  praying  for  her." 

Noel  bowed  low. 

"  To  hear  your  wish,  monsieur,  is  to  obey  it,"  he 
said.  "  I  go.  This  evening,  at  your  house,  I  will  have 
the  honor  of  giving  you  an  account  of  my  proceedings. 
Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  bring  Albert  with  me." 

He  spoke,  and,  embracing  the  dead  woman  for  the 
last  time,  went  out. 

Soon  the  count  and  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges  fol- 
lowed. 

The  old  soldier  went  to  the  mayor's,  to  make  his  dec- 
laration of  the  death,  and  to  fulfil  the  necessary  for- 
malities. 

The  nun  alone  remained,  awaiting  the  priest,  which 
the  cure  had  promised  to  send  to  watch  the  corpse. 

The  daughter  of  St.  Vincent  felt  neither  fear  nor 
embarrassment;  she  had  been  so  many  times  in  just 
such  scenes. 

Her  prayers  said,  she  arose,  and  went  about  the  room, 
putting  every  thing  in  the  proper  order  after  a  death. 

She  removed  all  traces  of  the  sickness,  hid  the  vials 
and  little  cups,  burnt  some  sugar  upon  the  fire  shovel, 
and  on  a  table  covered  with  a  white  cloth  at  the  head 
of  the  bed,  placed  some  lighted  candles,  a  crucifix  with 
holy  water,  and  a  branch  of  palm. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  369 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

TROUBLED  and  distressed  by  the  revelations  of  Ma- 
demoiselle d'Arlanges,  Daburon  was  ascending  the 
stairway  that  led  to  the  gallery  of  the  judges  of  inquiry, 
when  he  was  met  by  Pere  Tabaret,  The  sight  pleased 
him;  and  so  he  called  out, — 

"  Monsieur  Tabaret !  " 

But  the  old  fellow,  who  showed  every  sign  of  the 
most  intense  agitation,  was  scarcely  disposed  to  stop, 
or  to  lose  a  single  minute. 

"  You  must  excuse  me,"  he  said,  saluting  him,  "  but  I 
am  expected  at  home." 

"  I  hope,  however — " 

"  Oh,  he  is  innocent,"  interrupted  Pere  Tabaret.  "  I 
have  already  some  proofs;  and  before  three  days — 
But  you  are  going  to  see  Gevrol's  man  with  the  rings  in 
his  ears.  He  is  very  acute,  is  this  Gevrol ;  I  have  mis- 
judged him." 

And  without  listening  to  another  word  he  hurried  on, 
jumping  down  three  steps  at  a  time,  at  the  risk  of 
breaking  his  neck. 

Daburon,  disappointed,  also  hastened  on. 

In  the  gallery,  before  his  office  door,  on  a  bench  of 
rough  wood,  sat  Albert  under  the  charge  of  a  garde  de 
Paris. 

"  You  will  be  summoned  immediately,"  said  the 
judge  to  the  prisoner,  on  opening  the  door. 

In  the  office,  Constant  was  talking  with  a  little  man 
of  a  sorry  appearance,  who  might  be  taken,  from  his 
dress,  for  an  inhabitant  of  the  Batignoles,  even  without 
the  enormous  false  pin  which  shone  in  his  cravat,  and 
which  betrayed  the  detective. 


370  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  You  received  my  letters  ?  "  asked  Daburon  of  his 
clerk.  "  Monsieur,  your  orders  have  been  executed : 
the  prisoner  is  without;  and  here  is  Martin,  who  has 
this  moment  arrived  from  Les-  Invalides." 

"  That  is  very  well,"  said  the  magistrate  in  a  satisfied 
tone.  And  turning  towards  the  detective, — 

"  Well,  Martin,"  he  asked,  "  what  have  you  found  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,  some  one  has  climbed  over  the  wall." 

"Lately?" 

"  Five  or  six  days  ago." 

"  You  are  sure  of  this  ?  " 

"  As  sure  as  I  am  that  I  see  Constant  at  this  moment 
mending  his  pen." 

"  The  marks  are  plain  ?  " 

"  As  plain  as  the  nose  on  my  face,  if  I  may  so  ex- 
press myself.  The  thief — it  was  done  by  a  thief,  I  im- 
agine— "  continued  Martin,  who  was  a  great  talker, — 
"  the  thief  entered  before  the  rain,  and  returned  after 
it,  as  you  had  conjectured.  This  circumstance  is  easy 
to  establish,  if  you  examine  the  marks  of  the  ascent  and 
the  descent  on  the  wall  on  the  side  towards  the  street. 
These  marks  are  holes,  made  by  the  end  of  the  boot. 
The  first  are  clean;  the  others,  muddy.  The  scamp — 
he  was  a  nimble  fellow — entered  by  the  aid  of  his  wrists 
and  legs ;  but,  in  going  out,  he  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a 
ladder,  which  he  threw  down  as  soon  as  he  was  over. 
It  is  very  evident  where  it  was  placed  below,  by  means 
of  the  holes  made  by  the  fellow's  weight ;  above,  by  the 
displaced  mortar." 

"  Is  that  all?"  asked  the  judge. 

"  Not  yet,  monsieur.  Three  of  the  pieces  of  bottle 
which  covered  the  top  of  the  wall  have  been  torn  away. 
Many  of  the  acacia  branches,  which  extend  out  over  the 
wall,  have  been  bent  and  broken.  From  a  thorn  of 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  37* 

one  of  these  branches,  I  took  this  little  piece  of  pearl 
gray  kid,  which  appears  to  me  to  have  come  from  a 
glove." 

The  judge  took  the  piece  with  eagerness. 

It  was  really  a  small  fragment  of  a  gray  glove. 

"  You  took  care,  I  hope  Martin,  not  to  attract  at- 
tention at  the  house  where  you  made  this  investiga- 
tion?" 

"  Certainly,  monsieur.  I  examined  the  exterior,  at 
my  leisure.  After  that,  disguising  myself  at  a  wine 
merchant's  around  the  corner,  I  called  at  the  Marquise 
d'Arlanges'  house,  giving  myself  out  to  be  the  servant 
of  a  neighboring  duchess,  who  was  in  despair  at  hav- 
ing lost  a  favorite,  and  if  I  may  so  speak,  an  eloquent 
paroquet.  They  very  kindly  gave  me  permission  to 
look  in  the  garden ;  and,  as  I  spoke  as  disrespectfully  as 
possible  of  my  pretended  mistress,  they  took  me  for  an 
unmistakable  servant." 

"  You  are  an  adroit  and  prompt  fellow,  Martin,"  in- 
terrupted the  judge.  "  I  am  well  satisfied  with  you : 
and  I  will  report  you  favorably  at  headquarters." 

He  rang ;  while  the  detective,  delighted  at  the  praises 
he  had  received,  moved  backwards  to  the  door,  bowing 
the  while. 

Albert  was  then  brought  in. 

"  Have  you  decided,  monsieur,"  asked  the  judge  of 
inquiry  without  preamble,  "  to  give  an  account  of  how 
you  spent  Tuesday  evening?" 

"  I  have  already  given  it,  monsieur." 

"  No,  monsieur,  you  have  not ;  and  I  regret  to  say 
that  you  have  told  me  a  falsehood." 

Albert,  at  this  apparent  insult,  turned  red;  and  his 
eyes  flashed. 

"  I  know  all  that  you  did  on  that  evening,"  continued 


372  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

the  judge;  "because  Justice,  as  I  have  already  said,  is 
ignorant  of  nothing  that  it  is  important  for  it  to  know." 

He  sought  Albert's  eye,  met  it,  and  said  slowly, — 

"  I  have  seen  Mademoiselle  Claire  d'Arlanges. 

At  that  name,  the  prisoner's  features,  restrained  by  a 
firm  resolve  not  to  betray  himself,  relaxed. 

The  immense  sensation  of  delight  which  he  must 
have  felt  can  easily  be  imagined.  He  was  like  a  man 
who  escapes  by  a  miracle  from  an  imminent  danger 
which  he  had  despaired  of  avoiding. 

But  he  made  no  reply. 

"  Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges,"  continued  the  judge, 
"  has  told  me  where  you  were  on  Tuesday  evening." 

Albert  still  hesitated. 

"  I  am  not  setting  a  trap  for  you,"  added  the  judge. 
"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor.  She  has  told  me  all, 
you  understand  ?  " 

This  time  Albert  decided  to  speak. 

His  explanations  corresponded  almost  exactly  with 
Claire's,  — not  one  detail  more.  Henceforth,  doubt  was 
impossible. 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlanges'  reliability  had  not  been 
shaken.  Either  Albert  was  innocent,  or  she  was  his  ac- 
complice. 

Could  she  knowingly  be  the  accomplice  of  this  dread- 
ful crime  ?  No ;  she  could  not  even  be  suspected  of  it. 

But  now  where  to  find  the  assassin? 

For,  in  the  sight  of  Justice,  when  a  crime  is  once 
discovered,  there  must  be  a  criminal. 

"  You  see,  monsieur,"  said  the  judge  severely  to  Al- 
bert, "  you  did  .deceive  me.  You  risked  your  life, 
monsieur,  and  what  is  still  more  serious,  you  exposed 
me,  you  exposed  Justice,  to  a  most  deplorable  mistake. 
Why  did  you  not  tell  me  the  truth  ?  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  373 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Albert,  "  Mademoiselle  d'Ar- 
langes,  in  according  me  a  meeting,  trusted  in  my 
honor." 

"  And  you  would  have  died  rather  than  speak  of  this 
interview  ? "  interrupted  Daburon  with  a  touch  of 
irony.  "  That  is  very  fine,  monsieur,  worthy  of  the 
days  of  chivalry !  " 

"  I  am  not  the  hero  that  you  suppose,  monsieur,"  re- 
plied the  prisoner  simply.  "  If  I  said  that  I  did  not 
count  on  Claire,  I  should  be  telling  a  falsehood ;  I  was 
only  waiting  for  her.  I  knew  that,  on  learning  of  my 
arrest,  she  would  brave  every  thing  to  save  me.  But 
they  might  have  hid  it  from  her ;  that  was  my  only  fear. 
In  that  case,  however  they  might  have  construed  my 
silence,  I  think  I  should  not  have  spoken  her  name." 

There  was  no  appearance  of  bravado.  What  Al- 
bert said,  he  thought  and  felt.  Daburon  repented  his 
irony. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said  kindly,  "  you  must  return  to 
your  prison.  I  cannot  release  you  yet ;  but  you  will  be 
no  longer  in  solitary  confinement.  You  will  be  treated 
with  every  attention  due  a  prisoner  whose  innocence  is 
at  least  probable." 

Albert  bowed,  and  thanked  him.  He  was  then  re- 
moved by  the  garde. 

"  We  are  now  ready  for  Gevrol,"  said  the  judge  to 
his  clerk. 

The  chief  of  detectives  was  absent :  they  had  inquired 
for  him  at  the  prefecture ;  but  his  witness,  the  man  with 
the  rings  in  his  ears,  was  without,  in  the  gallery. 

They  told  him  to  enter. 

He  was  one  of  those  short,  thickset  men,  powerful  as 
oaks,  of  an  iron  frame,  who  look  as  though  they  could 
carry  almost  any  weight  on  their  broad  shoulders. 


374  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

His  white  hair  and  beard  made  his  red  skin,  burnt, 
scorched,  tanned  by  the  inclemencies  of  the  weather,  by 
the  storms  of  the  sea  and  the  sun  of  the  tropics,  appear 
the  more  hard  favored  and  ugly. 

He  had  large  hands,  blackened,  hard,  callous,  with 
the  thumbs  so  broad  and  knotted  that  they  must  have 
had  the  pressure  of  a  vise. 

Large  rings,  in  the  form  of  an  anchor  hung  from  his 
ears.  He  wore  the  costume  of  a  well-to-do  Norman 
fisher,  when  he  is  dressed  for  a  visit  to  the  city,  or  for  a 
journey. 

The  sheriff  was  obliged  to  force  him  into  the  office. 

The  wolf  from  the  coast  was  frightened  and  abashed. 

He  advanced,  balancing  himself  first  on  one  leg,  then 
on  the  other,  with  that  irregular  walk  of  the  sailor,  who, 
missing  the  rolling  and  tossing  of  the  ocean,  is  surprised 
to  find  beneath  his  feet  any  thing  so  immovable  as  terra 
firma. 

To  give  himself  confidence,  he  fumbled  over  his  soft 
felt  hat,  adorned  with  little  lead  saints,  after  the  fashion 
of  king  Louis  XI.  of  illustrious  memory,  and  adorned 
still  more  with  a  round  gances  de  laine,  made  by  some 
young  country  girl,  in  the  primitive  style  of  four  or  five 
pins  placed  in  a  bit  of  cork. 

Daburon  examined  him,  and  saw  his  worth  at  a 
glance. 

There  was  no  doubt  but  what  this  was  the  red-faced 
man  described  by  one  of  the  witnesses  from  Jonchere. 

It  was  impossible  also  to  doubt  the  honesty  of  the 
man.  His  face  breathed  open-heartedness  and  good- 
ness. 

"  Your  name?  "  demanded  the  judge  of  inquiry. 

"  Marie  Pierre  Lerouge." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  375 

"  You  are,  then,  some  relation  of  Claudine  Le- 
rouge  ?  " 

"  Her  husband,  monsieur." 

What,  the  husband  of  the  victim,  alive,  and  the  police 
ignorant  of  even  his  existence ! 

That  was  Daburon's  first  thought. 

What,  then,  does  this  wonderful  progress  in  inven- 
tion acomplish  ? 

To-day,  precisely  as  twenty  years  ago,  when  Justice 
is  in  doubt,  it  requires  the  same  inordinate  loss  of  time 
and  money  to  obtain  the  slightest  information. 

On  Friday,  they  had  written  to  inquire  about  Clau- 
dine's  past  life;  it  was  now  Monday,  and  no  reply  had 
arrived. 

And  yet  photography  was  in  existence,  and  the  elec- 
tric telegraph.  They  had  at  their  service  a  thousand 
means,  formerly  unknown;  and  they  made  no  use  of 
them. 

"  All  the  world,"  said  the  judge,  "  believed  her  a 
widow.  She  herself  pretended  to  be  one." 

"  Yes ;  it  was  an  arrangement  between  ourselves.  I 
told  her  that  I  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
her." 

"  Indeed  ?  Well,  you  know,  I  suppose,  that  she  is 
dead, — that  she  was  the  victim  of  a  dreadful  crime  ?  " 

"  The  officer  who  brought  me  here  told  me  of  it,  mon- 
sieur," replied  the  sailor,  his  face  darkening.  "  She 
was  a  wretch !  "  he  added  in  a  deep  tone. 

"  How?    You,  her  husband,  revile  her?  " 

"  I  have  good  reason  to,  monsieur.  Ah,  my  dead 
father,  who  foresaw  it  all  at  the  time,  warned  me !  I 
laughed,  when  he  said,  '  Take  care,  or  she  will  dishonor 
you.'  He  was  right.  For  her  sake,  I  have  been  hunted 


376  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

down  by  the  police,  just  like  some  skulking  thief. 
Everywhere  that  they  have  inquired  after  me  with  a 
description,  people  will  say,  '  Ah,  ha,  he  has  com- 
mitted some  crime ! '  And  here  I  am  before  a  court  of 
justice !  Ah  monsieur,  what  a  disgrace !  The  Lerouges 
have  been  honest  people,  from  father  to  son,  since  the 
world  began.  Inquire  through  the  country.  They  will 
tell  you,  '  Lerouge's  word  is  as  good  as  another  man's 
writing.'  Yes,  she  was  a  wicked  woman;  and  I  have 
often  told  her  that  she  would  come  to  a  bad  end." 

"You  told  her  that?" 

"  More  than  a  hundred  times,  monsieur." 

"  Why  ?  Come,  my  friend,  be  assured ;  your  honor  is 
not  at  stake  here:  no  one  doubts  you.  When  did  you 
warn  her  so  wisely  ?  " 

"  Ah,  a  long  time  ago,  monsieur,"  replied  the  sailor ; 
"  the  first  time  was  more  than  thirty  years  back.  She 
had  ambition  in  her  very  blood ;  she  wished  to  mix  her- 
self in  the  intrigues  of  the  great.  It  was  that  that  ruined 
her.  She  said  that  you  got  money  for  preserving  their 
secrets ;  and  I  said  that  you  got  disgrace  along  with  it. 
To  put  up  your  hands  to  hide  the  villainies  of  the  rich, 
and  to  expect  happiness  from  it,  is  like  making  your  bed 
of  thorns,  in  the  hope  of  sleeping  well.  But  she  had  got 
it  into  her  head ;  and  it  couldn't  be  got  out." 

"You  were  her  husband,"  objected  Daburon;  "you 
had  the  right  to  command  her  obedience." 

The  sailor  struck  his  head,  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Alas,  monsieur !  it  was  I  who  did  the  obeying." 

To  proceed  by  short  inquiries  with  a  witness,  when 
you  have  no  idea  of  the  information  he  brings,  is  but  to 
lose  time  in  attempting  to  gain  it.  When  you  think  you 
are  approaching  the  important  fact,  you  may  be  just 
avoiding  it.  It  is  much  better  to  give  the  witness  the 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  377 

rein,  and  to  listen,  putting  him  on  the  track  only  when 
he  gets  too  far  away.  It  is  the  surest  and  easiest 
method.  This  was  the  course  Daburon  pursued,  all 
the  time  cursing  Gevrol's  absence,  as  he  by  a  single 
word  could  have  cut  off  a  good  half  of  the  examination, 
whose  importance,  by  the  way,  the  judge  did  not  even 
suspect. 

"  In  what  intrigues  did  your  wife  mingle  ?  "  asked 
the  magistrate.  "  Go  on,  my  friend,  tell  me  exactly ; 
here,  you  know,  we  must  have  not  only  the  truth,  but  the 
whole  truth." 

Lerouge  placed  his  hat  on  a  chair.  Then  he  began 
alternately  to  twirl  his  fingers,  and  snap  them,  and 
to  scratch  his  head  violently.  It  was  his  way  of  arrang- 
ing his  ideas. 

"  I  must  tell  you,"  he  began,  "  that  it  is  thirty-five 
years  since  I  fell  in  love  with  Claudine,  at  St.  Jean. 
She  was  a  bright,  neat,  fascinating  girl,  with  a  voice 
sweeter  than  honey.  She  was  the  most  beautiful  girl 
in  the  country,  straight  as  a  mast,  supple  as  a  willow, 
as  fine  and  strong  as  a  ship  of  the  line.  Her  eyes 
sparkled  like  old  cider.  She  had  black  hair,  white  teeth, 
and  her  breath  was  sweeter  than  the  sea-breeze.  The 
difficulty  was,  that  she  hadn't  a  sou,  while  our  family 
were  in  easy  circumstances.  Her  mother,  who  had  been 
a  widow  for  some  thirty-six  years,  was  not,  saving  your 
presence,  much  respected ;  and  my  father  was  the  hon- 
estest  man  alive.  When  I  spoke  to  the  old  fellow  of 
marrying  Claudine,  he  swore  fiercely;  and  eight  days 
after,  he  sent  me  to  Porto  on  a  schooner  belonging  to  one 
of  our  neighbors,  pretending  that  it  was  for  change  of 
air.  I  came  back,  at  the  end  of  six  months,  thinner  than  a 
marling  spike,  but  more  in  love  than  ever.  Recollec- 
tions of  Claudine  scorched  me  like  a  fire.  I  was  fool 


378  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

enough  to  give  up  eating  and  drinking.  I  felt  that  she 
loved  me  a  little  in  return,  seeing  that  I  was  a  stout- 
young  fellow,  and  more  than  one  girl  had  set  her  cap 
for  me.  Then  my  father,  seeing  that  he  could  do  noth- 
ing, that  I  was  wasting  away  without  saying  '  boo ! ' 
and  was  in  a  fair  way  to  join  my  mother  in  the  ceme- 
tery, decided  to  let  me  complete  my  folly.  So  one  even- 
ing, after  we  had  returned  from  fishing,  and  I  got  up 
from  supper  without  tasting  it,  he  said  to  me,  '  Marry 
the  hag,  and  stop  this  sort  of  thing.'  I  remember  it  dis- 
tinctly ;  because,  at  hearing  the  old  fellow  call  my  love 
such  a  name,  I  flew  into  a  passion,  and  almost  wanted 
to  kill  him.  Ah,  one  never  gains  any  thing  by  marry- 
ing in  opposition  to  one's  parents !  " 

The  brave  sailor  wandered  in  the  midst  of  his  recol- 
lections. He  was  very  far  from  his  story. 

The  judge  of  inquiry  attempted  to  bring  him  back 
into  the  right  path. 

"  Let  us  come  to  our  business,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  going  to,  monsieur ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  be- 
gin at  the  beginning.  I  married.  That  evening,  after 
the  ceremony,  and  when  the  relatives  and  invited  guests 
had  departed,  I  went  to  join  my  wife,  when  I  perceived 
my  father  all  alone  in  one  corner  weeping.  The  sight 
touched  my  heart ;  and  I  had  a  foreboding  of  evil ;  but 
it  quickly  passed  away.  It  is  so  delightful,  those  first 
six  months  with  a  dearly  loved  wife !  You  seem  to  be 
surrounded  by  mists,  that  change  the  very  stones  into 
palaces  and  temples  so  completely  that  novices  are  taken 
in.  For  two  years,  in  spite  of  a  few  little  quarrels, 
every  thing  went  on  nicely.  Claudine  managed  me  like 
a  charm.  Ah,  she  was  cunning !  She  seized,  bound,  car- 
ried me  to  market  and  sold  me.,  while  I  was  totally  un- 
conscious. Her  great  fault  was  her  extravagance.  All 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  379 

that  I  earned, — and  my  business  was  very  prosperous, 
— she  put  on  her  back.  Every  week  there  was  some  new 
ornament,  dresses,  jewels,  bonnets,  the  devil's  baubles, 
which  merchants  invent  for  the  perdition  of  the  female 
sex.  The  neighbors  chattered ;  but  I  thought  it  was  all 
right.  At  the  baptism  of  our  son,  who  was  called 
Jacques  after  my  father,  to  please  her,  I  spent,  regard- 
less of  my  usual  economy,  more  than  three  hundred 
pistoles, — the  very  sum  with  which  I  had  intended  buy- 
ing a  meadow  that  lay  in  the  midst  of  our  property." 

Daburon  was  boiling  over  with  impatience ;  but  what 
could  he  do? 

"  Go  on,  go  on,"  he  said  every  time  Lerouge  made 
the  slightest  appearance  of  stopping. 

"  I  was  well  enough  pleased,"  continued  the  sailor, 
"  until  one  morning  I  saw  one  of  the  Count  de  Com- 
marin's  servants  entering  our  house,  their  chateau  be- 
ing only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  our  house  on  the  other 
side  of  the  town.  There  was  something  peculiar  about 
this  Germain,  that  I  didn't  like  at  all.  Then  it  was  said 
that  he  had  been  mixed  up  in  that  affair  of  poor 
Thomassine,  a  young  girl  of  our  family  who  attended 
on  the  countess,  and  who  one  day.  suddenly  disappeared. 
I  asked  my  wife  what  the  fellow  wanted;  she  replied 
that  he  had  come  to  engage  her  services  as  wet  nurse. 
I  couldn't*  understand  it;  for  our  means  were  suffic- 
ient to  allow  Claudine  to  keep  all  her  milk  for  our  own 
child.  But  she  gave  me  the  very  best  of  reasons.  She 
wanted  to  earn  a  little  money,  being  ashamed  of  doing 
nothing,  while  I  was  killing  myself  with  work.  She 
wanted  to  save,  to  economize;  so  that  before  long  I 
might  not  be  obliged  to  go  to  sea  any  more.  She  was 
to  get  such  a  good  price,  that,  in  a  very  little  while,  we 
could  save  enough  to  replace  the  three  hundred  pistoles, 


380  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

and  buy  the  meadow    after    all.      That    confounded 
meadow  decided  me." 

"  Did  she  not  tell  you  of  the  commission  with  which 
she  was  charged  ?  " 

This  question  astonished  Lerouge.  He  thought  that 
it  was  said  very  properly  that  justice  sees  and  knows 
every  thing. 

"  Not  then,"  he  answered ;  "  but  you  shall  see.  Eight 
days  after,  the  postman  brought  a  letter,  asking  her  to 
come  to  Paris  to  get  the  child.  It  arrived  in  the  even- 
ing. '  Very  well,'  said  she,  '  I  will  start  to-morrow 
by  the  diligence.'  I  didn  t  say  a  word  then ;  but  next 
morning,  when  she  was  about  to  take  her  seat  in  the 
diligence,  I  declared  that  I  was  going  with  her.  She 
didn't  seem  at  all  angry.  On  the  contrary,  she  seemed 
pleased ;  at  which  of  course  I  was  delighted.  At  Paris, 
she  was  to  get  the  little  one  at  Madame  Gerdy's,  who 
lived  on  the  Boulevarde.  We  arranged  that  she  was  to 
go  alone,  while  I  waited  for  her  at  our  inn.  After  she 
had  gone,  I  grew  jealous.  I  went  out  in  about  an  hour, 
and  prowled  about  Madame  Gerdy's  house,  making  in- 
quiries of  the  servants  and  of  the  passers  by,  until  I 
discovered  that  she  was  the  mistress  of  the  Count  de 
Commarin.  Of  course  I  was  in  a  passion;  and,  if  I 
had  been  master,  my  wife  should  have  gone  back  with- 
out the  little  scamp.  A  nice  sort  of  thing  to  be  mixed 
up  in,  to  be  sure,  I  thought." 

The  judge  of  inquiry  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair. 
"  Will  this  man  never  end  ?  "  he  muttered. 

"  Yes,  you  are  perfectly  right,"  he  said ;  "  but  never 
mind  your  thoughts.  Go  on,  go  on !  " 

"  Claudine,  monsieur,  was  more  obstinate  than  a 
mule.  After  three  days  of  violent  discussion,  and  by 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  381 

the  wicked  snares  of  kissing  and  embracing,  she  tore 
from  me  a  reluctant  consent.  Then  she  told  me  that 
we  were  not  to  return  home  by  diligence.  The  lady, 
who  feared  the  fatigue  of  the  journey  for  her  child, 
had  arranged  that  we  should  carry  him  back  by  short 
stages  in  her  carriage,  and  drawn  by  her  horses.  That 
was  keeping  up  grand  style.  I  was  ass  enough  to  be 
delighted,  because  it  gave  me  a  chance  to  see  the  coun- 
try at  my  leisure.  We  were  installed  with  the  children, 
mine  and  the  other,  in  an  elegant  carriage,  drawn  by 
magnificent  animals,  driven  by  a  coachman  in  liv- 
ery. My  wife  was  mad  with  joy,  and  chinked  the  gold 
in  my  face.  I  was  angry,  as  an  honest  husband  should 
be,  who  sees  money  in  the  family  which  he  didn't  earn. 
At  seeing  my  countenance,  Claudine,  hoping  to  pacify 
me,  resolved  to  tell  me  the  whole  truth.  '  See  here/ 
she  said  to  me., — " 

Lerouge  stopped,  and,  changing  his  tone  said, — 

"  You  understand  that  it  is  my  wife  who  is  speak- 
ing?" 

"  Yes,  yes.     Go  on." 

"  She  said  to  me,  shaking  her  purse,  '  See  here,  my 
man,  we  shall  never  want  again ;  and  here's  the  reason : 
the  count,  who  has  a  legitimate  child  of  the  same  age  as 
this,  wishes  that  this  youngster  shall  bear  his  name  in- 
stead of  the  other;  and  this  can  only  be  accomplished 
through  me.  On  the  road,  we  are  to  meet  at  an  inn, 
where  we  are  to  lodge,  Germain  and  the  nurse  to  whom 
they  have  entrusted  the  legitimate  child:  we  are  to  be 
put  in  the  same  chamber ;  and,  during  the  night,  I  am 
to  exchange  the  little  ones,  as  they  are  very  much  alike, 
one  for  the  other.  The  count  is  to  give  eight  thousand 
francs  for  it,  and  an  annuity  of  a  thousand  francs.' " 


382  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  And  you,"  cried  the  judge,  "  you,  who  call  your- 
self an  honest  man  permitted  such  a  villainy,  when  one 
word  would  have  been  sufficient  to  prevent  it  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  monsieur,"  remonstrated  Lerouge ;  "  if 
you  would  only  let  me  finish." 

"  Well,  go  on." 

"  I  could  say  nothing,  then,  I  was  so  choked  with 
rage.  I  was  dismayed.  But  she  burst  out  laughing, — 
she  was  always  afraid  of  me  when  I  asserted  myself, — 
and  said,  '  What  a  fool  you  are !  Listen,  before  you 
sour  like  a  dish  of  milk.  The  count  is  the  only  one  who 
wants  this  change  made ;  and  he  is  the  one  that's  to  pay 
for  it.  His  mistress,  this  little  one's  mother,  doesn't 
want  it  at  all ;  but  she  seems  to  consent,  so  as  not  to 
quarrel  with  her  lover,  and  because  she  has  got  a  plan 
of  her  own.  She  took  me  aside,  during  my  visit  in  her 
room;  and,  after  having  made  me  swear  secrecy  on  a 
crucifix,  she  told  me  this  plan.  She  said  that  she 
couldn't  bear  the  idea  of  separating  herself  from  her 
babe  forever,  and  of  bringing  up  another's  child ;  so 
she  said,  that,  if  I  would  agree  not  to  change  the  chil- 
dren, keeping  mum  about  it  to  the  count,  she  would  give 
me  ten  thousand  francs  down,  and  guarantee  me  an  an- 
nuity equal  to  what  the  count  was  to  give  me.  She 
declared,  also,  that  she  could  easily  find  out  whether 
I  kept  my  word,  as  she  had  made  a  mark  of  recognition 
on  her  little  one.  She  didn't  show  me  the  mark;  and 
I  have  examined  him  carefully,  but  can't  find  it.  Do 
you  understand  now  ?  I  am  simply  to  take  care  of  this 
little  fellow  here.  I  am  to  tell  the  count  that  I  have 
made  the  exchange.  We  fill  our  pockets  from  both 
sides ;  and  our  little  Jacques  will  be  a  rich  man.  What 
do  you  think  of  your  wife  now?  Has  she  more  clev- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  383 

erness  than  you,  eh?'  That,  monsieur,  is  word  fof 
word  what  Claudine  said  to  me." 

The  rough  sailor  drew  from  his  pocket  a  large  blue- 
checked  handkerchief,  and  blew  his  nose  so  violently 
that  the  windows  shook.  It  was  his  way  of  weeping. 

Daburon  was  confounded. 

Since  the  beginning  of  this  wretched  affair,  he  had 
encountered  astonishment  after  astonishment.  Scarcely 
had  he  got  his  ideas  in  order  on  any  point,  when  some- 
thing new  arose  which  utterly  routed  them  again. 

He  felt  confused.  What  was  this  new  and  grave  in- 
formation? What  did  it  mean? 

He  longed  to  investigate  it  instantly;  but  he  saw 
that  Lerouge  was  getting  on  with  difficulty,  laboriously 
disentangling  his  memories,  guided  by  a  well-stretched 
thread,  which  the  least  interruption  would  break. 

"  What  Claudine  proposed  to  me,"  continued  the 
sailor,  "  was  villainous ;  and  I  was  an  honest  man.  But 
she  kneaded  me  to  her  will  as  easily  as  a  baker  kneads 
a  pate.  She  overcame  my  heart ;  she  made  me  see  that 
white  as  snow  which  was  really  as  black  as  ink.  How 
I  loved  her !  She  proved  to  me  that  we  were  wronging 
no  one,  and  that  we  were  making  little  Jacques's  for- 
tune and  I  was  silenced.  At  evening,  we  arrived  at 
some  village,  and  the  coachman,  stopping  the  carriage 
before  an  inn,  told  us  we  were  to  lodge  there.  We  en- 
tered, and  who  do  you  think  we  saw?  That  scamp, 
Germain,  with  a  nurse,  carrying  a  child  so  exactly 
like  the  one  we  had  that  I  was  startled.  They  had  jour- 
neyed there,  like  ourselves,  in  one  of  the  count's  car- 
riages. A  suspicion  came  over  me.  How  could  I  be 
sure  that  Claudine  had  not  invented  the  second  story 
to  pacify  me?  She  was  certainly  capable  of  it.  I  was 


384  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

enraged.  I  would  consent  to  the  one  wickedness,  but 
not  to  the  other.  I  resolved  not  to  lose  sight  of  our 
little  chap,  swearing  that  they  shouldn't  cheat  me:  so 
I  kept  him  all  the  evening  on  my  knees ;  and,  to  make 
it  the  surer,  I  tied  my  handkerchief  about  his  waist. 
Ah!  their  plan  was  well  laid.  After  supper  they  spoke 
of  turning  in;  and  then  it  was  found  that  there  were 
only  two  rooms  and  two  beds  to  spare  in  the  house.  It 
seemed  as  though  it  was  built  expressly  for  our  scheme. 
The  innkeeper  said  that  the  two  nurses  might  sleep  in 
one  room  and  Germain  and  myself  in  the  other.  You 
understand,  monsieur?  Add  to  this,  that  during  the 
entire  evening  I  had  surprised  looks  of  intelligence 
passing  between  my  wife  and  that  rascally  servant,  and 
you  can  imagine  how  furious  I  was.  It  was  conscience 
that  spoke ;  and  I  was  trying  to  silence  it.  I  knew  very 
well  that  I  was  doing  wrong ;  and  I  almost  wished  my- 
self dead.  Why  is  it  these  scamps  can  almost  twist 
an  honest  man's  spirit  around  like  a  weather-cock  with 
every  breath  of  their  rascality  ?  " 

Daburon's  only  reply  was  a  blow  of  his  fist,  almost 
powerful  enough  to  break  his  desk. 

Lerouge  at  that  proceeded  more  quickly. 

"  As  for  me,  I  stopped  the  business,  pretending  to 
be  too  jealous  to  leave  my  wife  a  minute.  Every  thing 
turned  out  as  I  wished.  The  other  nurse  went  into 
the  room  first.  Claudine  and  I  followed  soon  after- 
wards. My  wife  laid  down  in  her  clothes  by  the  side 
of  the  other  nurse  and  child.  I  installed  myself  in  a 
chair  near  the  bed,  determined  to  keep  one  eye  open, 
and  to  mount  close  watch.  I  put  out  the  candle,  in  or- 
der to  let  the  women  sleep ;  as  for  me,  I  could  scarcelv 
think.  My  ideas  drove  away  sleep;  and  I  thought  of 
my  father,  and  what  he  would  say,  if  he  ever  knew 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  385 

what  I  was  doing.  Towards  midnight,  I  heard  Clau- 
dine  moving.  I  held  my  breath.  She  arose.  Was  she 
going  to  change  the  children?  At  one  moment,  I 
thought  not;  the  next,  I  felt  sure  she  was.  I  was  be- 
side myself;  and  seizing  her  by  the  arm,  I  commenced 
to  beat  her  roughly,  letting  loose  all  that  I  had  on  my 
heart.  I  spoke  in  a  loud  voice,  as  on  a  ship  in  a  high 
wind.  I  swore  like  a  fiend.  I  raised  a  frightful  dis- 
turbance. The  other  nurse  cried  out,  as  if  she  were 
having  her  throat  cut.  At  this  uproar,  Germain  rushed 
in  with  a  lighted  candle.  The  sight  of  him  finished  me. 
Not  knowing  what  I  was  doing,  I  drew  from  my  pocket 
a  Spanish  knife,  which  I  always  carried,  and,  seizing 
the  cursed  baby,  I  ran  the  blade  across  his  arm,  crying, 
'  This  fellow  at  least  can't  be  changed  without  my 
knowing  it ;  he  is  marked  for  life ! ' : 

Lerouge  could  go  on  no  further. 

Great  drops  of  sweat  stood  upon  his  forehead,  and 
flowing  down  his  cheeks,  lodged  in  the  deep  wrinkles 
of  his  face. 

He  .panted ;  and  the  stern  glance  from  the  judge  op- 
pressed him,  harassed  him,  urging  him  on,  just  as  the 
whip  urges  on  the  negro  overcome  with  fatigue. 

"  The  wound  on  the  little  fellow/'  he  continued, 
"  was  terrible.  It  bled  dreadfully ;  and  he  might  have 
died:  but  I  didn't  stop  at  that.  I  was  troubled  about 
the  future,  about  what  might  happen  afterwards;  so 
I  determined  to  write  out  all  that  had  occurred,  and  to 
have  all  sign  it.  This  was  done:  we  all  four  signed. 
Germain  didn't  dare  resist;  for  I  spoke  with  knife  in 
hand.  He  wrote  his  name  first,  begging  me  only  to  say 
nothing  about  it  to  the  count,  swearing  that,  for  his 
part,  he  would  never  breathe  a  word  of  it,  and  pledging 
the  other  nurse  to  a  like  secrecy." 


386  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"And  have  you  kept  this  paper?"  asked  Daburon. 

"  Yes,  monsieur :  and  as  the  officer,  to  whom  I  con- 
fessed all,  advised  me  to  bring  it  with  me,  I  went  to  the 
place  where  I  always  kept  it ;  and  I  have  it  here." 

"  Give  it  to  me." 

Lerouge  took  from  the  pocket  of  his  roundabout  an 
old  parchment  pocket-book,  fastened  with  a  leather 
strap  and  drew  out  a  paper  yellowed  by  age  and 
careful  hiding. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  he.  "  The  paper  hasn't  been 
opened  since  that  cursed  night." 

As  the  judge  unfolded  it,  ashes  fell  out,  which  had 
been  used  to  keep  the  writing,  when  wet,  from  blot- 
ting. 

It  was  really  a  brief  description  of  the  scene,  de- 
scribed by  the  old  sailor.  The  four  signatures  were  all 
there. 

"  What  has  become  of  the  witnesses  who  signed  this 
paper?"  muttered  the  judge,  speaking  to  himself. 

Lerouge  thought  the  question  was  put  to  him. 

"  Germain  is  dead,"  he  replied ;  "  I  have  been  told 
that  he  was  killed  in  some  broil  or  other.  Claudine 
has  been  assassinated;  but  the  other  nurse  still  lives. 
She  told  the  affair  to  her  husband,  I  know;  for  he 
hinted  as  much  to  me.  Her  name  is  Brossette;  and  she 
lives  in  the  village  of  Commarin  itself." 

"Is  there  any  thing  else?"  asked  the  judge,  after 
having  taken  down  the  name  and  address  of  this  wo- 
man. 

"  The  next  day,  monsieur,  Claudine  tried  to  pacify 
me,  and  to  extort  a  promise  of  silence.  The  child  was 
hardly  sick  at  all ;  but  he  retained  an  enormous  scar  on 
his  arm." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  387 

"  Was  Madame  Gerdy  kept  in  ignorance  of  what  had 
passed  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so,  monsieur ;  but  I  am  not  sure." 

"How?  not  sure?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur.  You  see  my  ignorance  came  of 
what  happened  afterwards." 

"What  did  happen?" 

The  sailor  hesitated. 

"  That,  monsieur,  concerns  only  me  and — " 

"  My  friend,"  interrupted  the  judge,  "  you  are  an 
honest  man,  I  believe ;  in  fact,  I  am  sure.  But  once  in 
your  life,  influenced  by  a  wicked  woman,  you  did 
wrong, — you  became  an  accomplice  in  a  very  great 
crime.  Repair  that  error,  by  speaking  truly  now.  All 
that  is  said  here,  and  which  is  not  directly  connected 
with  the  crime,  remains  secret ;  even  I  will  forget  it  im- 
mediately. Fear  nothing;  and,  if  you  experience  some 
humiliation,  remember  it  is  your  punishment  for  the 
past." 

"  Alas,  monsieur,"  answered  the  sailor,  "  I  have  been 
already  punished ;  it  is  a  long  time  since  my  trouble  be- 
gan. Money,  wickedly  acquired,  brings  no  good.  On 
arriving  home,  I  bought  the  wretched  meadow  for  much 
more  than  it  was  worth ;  and,  the  day  I  walked  over  it, 
feeling  that  it  was  actually  mine,  closed  my  happiness. 
Claudine  was  a  coquette;  but  she  had  vices  still  worse. 
When  she  realized  how  much  money  we  had,  these  vices 
burst  forth,  just  as  a  fire  smouldering  at  the  bottom  of 
the  hold,  bursts  forth  when  you  open  the  hatches.  In- 
stead of  the  slight  eater  she  had  been,  her  appetite  got 
to  be  enormous  enough,  saving  your  presence,  to  strike 
you  with  horror.  There  was  feasting  in  our  house1 
without  end.  When  I  would  go  to  sea,  she  would  en- 


388  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

tertain  the  worst  scoundrels  in  the  country;  and  there 
was  nothing  too  good  or  too  expensive  for  them.  She 
took  to  drinking,  too ;  so  that  she  was  half  her  time  far 
from  sober.  One  night  when  she  thought  me  at  Rouen, 
I  unexpectedly  returned.  I  entered,  and  found  her  with 
the  head  bailiff  of  the  town.  I  might  have  killed  him, 
like  the  vermin  that  he  was :  it  was  my  right ;  but  I  had 
pity  on  him.  I  took  him  by  the  neck  and  pitched  him 
out  the  window,  without  opening  it.  It  didn't  kill  him, 
more's  the  pity !  Then  I  fell  upon  my  wife,  and  beat 
her  until  she  couldn't  stir." 

Lerouge  spoke  in  a  harsh  voice,  now  and  then  thrust- 
ing his  restless  hands  into  his  eyes. 

"  I  pardoned  her,"  he  continued ;  "  and  the  man  who 
beats  his  wife  and  then  pardons  her  is  lost.  In  the  fu- 
ture, she  only  takes  better  precautions, — becomes  more 
of  a  hypocrite.  In  the  mean  while,  Madame  Gerdy  had 
taken  back  her  child ;  and  Claudine  had  nothing  more  to 
restrain  her.  Protected  and  counselled  by  her  mother, 
whom  she  had  taken  to  live  with  us  and  who  took  care 
of  our  Jacques,  she  managed  to  deceive  me  for  more 
than  a  year.  I  thought  she  had  recovered  her  better 
senses;  but  not  at  all:  she  lived  a  terrible  life.  My 
house  became  the  resort  of  all  the  good- for  nothing 
rogues  in  the  country,  for  whom  my  wife  brought  out 
bottles  of  wine  and  brandy ;  and,  while  I  was  away 
at  sea,  they  got  drunk  promiscuously.  When  money 
failed,  she  wrote  to  the  count  or  his  mistress;  and  the 
orgies  continued.  Occasionally  I  had  doubts  which 
disturbed  me;  and  then  without  reason,  for  a  simple 
yes  or  no,  I  would  beat  her  until  she  was  even  more 
thirsty,  and  after  that  pardon  like  a  coward,  like  an 
imbecile.  It  was  a  hard  life.  I  don't  know  which  gave 
me  the  most  pleasure,  embracing  her  or  beating  her. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  389 

Everybody  in  the  village  despised  me,  and  turned  their 
backs  on  me ;  they  believed  me  an  accomplice  or  a  will- 
ing dupe.  I  heard,  afterwards,  that  they  believed  I 
shared  the  profits  of  my  wife's  conduct ;  while  in  reality 
there  were  no  profits.  At  all  events,  they  wondered 
where  all  the  money  came  from  that  was  spent  in  my 
house.  To  distinguish  me  from  a  cousin  of  mine,  also 
named  Lerouge,  they  tacked  on  an  infamous  word  to 
my  name.  What  disgrace!  And  I  knew  nothing  of 
all  the  scandal, — no,  nothing.  Would  that  I  had  never 
married !  Fortunately,  though,  my  father  was  dead." 

Daburon  pitied  him  sincerely. 

"  Rest  yourself,  my  friend,"  he  said ;  "  wait  an  in- 
stant." 

"  No,"  replied  the  sailor,  "  I  would  rather  get 
through  with  it  quickly.  One  man,  the  priest,  had  the 
charity  to  tell  me  of  it.  Never  had  such  a  thing  hap- 
pened to  a  Lerouge!  Without  losing  a  moment,  I 
sought  a  lawyer,  and  asked  him  how  an  honest  man 
ought  to  act  who  had  had  the  misfortune  to  marry  such 
a  woman.  He  said  that  nothing  could  be  done.  To  go  to 
law  was  simply  to  publish  one's  own  dishonor;  while 
a  separation  would  accomplish  nothing.  When  once  a 
man  has  given  his  name  to  a  woman,  he  told  me,  he 
could  no  longer  take  it  back:  he  had  shared  it  with 
her  for  the  rest  of  her  life ;  she  had  the  right  to  keep  it. 
She  may  sully  it,  cover  it  with  mire,  drag  it  from  wine- 
shop to  wine-shop;  and  the  husband  can  do  nothing. 
That  being  the  case,  my  course  was  soon  taken.  That 
same  day  I  sold  the  meadow  and  sent  the  price  of  it  to 
Claudine,  wishing  to  keep  nothing  of  the  price  of 
shame.  I  then  drew  up  a  paper,  authorizing  her  to  use 
our  property,  but  not  allowing  her  either  to  sell  or  mort- 
gage it.  Then  I  wrote  a  letter  to  her,  in  which  I  told 


390  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

her  that  she  need  never  expect  to  speak  with  me*  again ; 
that  I  was  nothing  more  to  her,  and  that  she  might  look 
upon  herself  as  a  widow :  and  that  night  I  went  away 
with  my  son." 

"  And  what  became  of  your  wife  after  your  de- 
parture ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,  monsieur ;  I  only  know  that  she 
quitted  the  country  a  year  after  I  did." 

"  You  have  never  seen  her  since  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  But  you  were  at  her  house  three  days  before  this 
crime  was  committed." 

"  That  is  true,  monsieur;  but  that  was  absolutely 
necessary.  I  had  been  at  much  trouble  to  find  her:  no 
one  knew  what  had  become  of  her.  Fortunately  my 
notary  was  able  to  procure  Madame  Gerdy's  address. 
He  wrote  to  her ;  and  that  is  how  I  knew  that  Claudine 
was  living  at  Jonchere.  I  had  just  come  from  Rouen. 
Capt.  Gervaise,  who  is  a  friend  of  mine,  offered  to  bring 
me  to  Paris  on  his  boat ;  and  I  accepted.  Ah,  monsieur, 
what  a  shock  I  experienced  when  I  entered  her  house! 
My  wife  did  not  know  me!  By  constantly  telling  the 
world  that  I  was  dead,  she  had  without  a  doubt  ended 
by  believing  it  herself.  When  I  told  my  name,  she 
fell  back.  The  wretched  woman  had  not  changed  in 
the  least;  she  had  by  her  side  a  glass  and  a  bottle  of 
brandy — " 

"  All  this  doesn't  explain  why  you  were  seeking 
your  wife." 

"  It  was  on  Jacques's  account,  monsieur,  that  I  went. 
The  little  boy  has  grown  to  be  a  man  ;  and  he  is  anxious 
to  marry.  For  that,  his  mother's  consent  is  necessary ; 
and  I  was  taking  to  Claudine  a  paper,  which  the  notary 
had  drawn  up,  and  which  she  signed.  Here  it  is  now." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  391 

Daburon  took  the  paper,  and  appeared  to  read  it  at- 
tentively. After  a  moment  he  asked, — 

"  Have  you  tried  to  think  who  could  have  assassi- 
nated your  wife  ?  " 

Lerouge  made  no  reply. 

"  Have  you  had  suspicions  of  any  one  ?  "  persisted 
the  judge. 

"  Well,  monsieur,"  replied  the  sailor,  "  what  can  I 
say?  It  might  be  that  Claudine  had  wearied  out  these 
people  from  whom  she  drew  money,  like  water  from  a 
well;  or  perhaps,  getting  drunk  some  day,  she  blabbed 
too  freely." 

The  testimony  being  as  full  as  possible,  Daburon  dis- 
charged Lerouge,  at  the  same  time  advising  him  to  wait 
for  Gevrol,  who  would  take  him  to  a  hotel,  where  he 
might  wait,  at  the  disposal  of  justice,  until  further  or- 
ders. 

"  All  your  expenses  will  be  repaid  you,"  added  the 
judge. 

Lerouge  had  scarcely  turned  on  his  heel,  when  an 
event  grave,  extraordinary,  unheard  of,  unprecedented, 
took  place  in  the  office  of  the  judge  of  inquiry. 

Constant,  the  serious,  impassive,  immovable,  deaf 
and  dumb  Constant,  arose  and  spoke. 

He  broke  a  silence  of  fifteen  years.  He  forgot 
himself  so  far  as  to  offer  an  opinion. 

He  said, — 

"  This,  monsieur,  is  a  most  extraordinary  affair." 

Very  extraordinary,  truly,  thought  Daburon,  putting 
to  rout  all  predictions,  all  preconceived  opinions. 

Why  had  he,  the  judge,  moved  with  such  deplorable 
haste?  Why,  before  risking  any  thing,  had  he  not 
waited  to  possess  all  the  elements  of  this  weighty  mat- 
ter, to  hold  all  the  threads  of  this  complicated  plot? 


392  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

Justice  is  accused  of  slowness;  but  it  is  this  very 
slowness  that  constitutes  its  strength  and  surety,  its 
almost  infallibility. 

One  cannot  know,  on  the  instant,  what  course  the 
testimony  will  take. 

There  is  no  knowing  what  facts  investigations  ap- 
parently useless  may  reveal. 

The  dramas  of  the  court  of  assize  lose  much  by  not 
observing  the  unities. 

When  the  labyrinth  of  the  various  passions  and  mo- 
tives seems  inextricable,  an  unknown  personage  pre- 
sents himself,  coming  from,  no  one  knows  where;  and 
it  is  he  who  brings  on  the  denouement. 

Daburon,  usually  the  most  prudent  of  men,  had  con- 
sidered as  simple  one  of  the  most  complex  of  cases.  He 
had  acted  in  a  mysterious  crime,  which  demanded  the 
utmost  caution,  as  carelessly  as  though  it  were  a  case 
of  simple  misdemeanor.  Why?  Because  his  memory 
had  not  left  free  his  deliberation,  his  judgment,  his  dis- 
cernment. He  had  feared  equally  appearing  weak  and 
appearing  revengeful.  Thinking  himself  sure  of  his 
facts,  he  had  been  carried  away  by  his  animosity. 
And  yet  how  often  had  he  deceived  himself  with 
the  idea  of  duty!  But  then,  when  you  are  at  all 
doubtful  about  your  duty,  you  are  always  on  a  false 
track. 

The  singular  part  of  it  all  was,  that  the  faults  of  the 
judge  of  inquiry  sprang  from  his  very  honesty.  He  had 
been  led  astray  by  a  too  great  refinement  of  conscience. 
The  scruples  which  troubled  him  had  filled  his  mind  with 
phantoms,  had  pushed  him  even  to  a  passionate  ani- 
mosity. 

Calmer  now,  he  examined  the  matter  more  soundly. 
As  a  whole,  thank  heaven!  there  was  nothing  done 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  393 

which  could  not  be  repaired.  He  accused  himself, 
however,  none  the  less  hardly.  Chance  alone  had 
stopped  him.  On  the  instant,  he  resolved  that  this  ex- 
amination should  be  his  last.  His  profession  hence- 
forth could  inspire  him  only  with  an  unconquerable 
loathing.  Then  his  interview  with  Claire  had  opened 
all  the  old  wounds  in  his  heart;  and  they  bled  more 
dreadfully  than  ever.  He  felt,  in  despair,  that  his  life 
was  broken,  ruined.  A  man  may  feel  so,  when  all 
women  are  as  nothing  to  him  except  one,  whom  he  may 
never  hope  to  possess. 

Too  religious  to  think  of  suicide,  he  asked  himself 
with  anguish  what  would  become  of  him  when  he 
should  throw  aside  his  judge's  robes. 

Then  he  turned  again  to  the  business  in  hand.  In 
any  case,  innocent  or  guilty,  Albert  was  really  the  Vis- 
count de  Commarin,  the  count's  legitimate  son.  But 
was  he  guilty?  Plainly  not. 

"  I  think,"  he  cried  out  suddenly,  "  I  had  better 
speak  to  the  Count  de  Commarin.  Constant,  send  to 
his  house  and  bring  him  here  at  once;  if  he  is  not  at 
home,  have  him  sought  for." 

Daburon  felt  that  an  unpleasant  duty  was  before 
him.  He  should  have  to  say  to  the  old  gentleman, 
"  Monsieur,  I  was  mistaken  about  your  legitimate  son ; 
you  have  still  the  right  one  with  you."  What  a  po- 
sition, not  only  painful,  but  bordering  on  the  ridicu- 
lous !  As  a  compensation,  though,  he  could  tell  him 
that  Albert  was  innocent. 

To  Noel  he  must  also  tell  the  truth,  must  hurl  him 
to  earth,  after  having  raised  him  among  the  clouds. 
What  a  blow  it  would  be!  But,  without  a  doubt,  the 
count  would  make  him  some  compensation ;  at  least,  he 
ought  to. 


394  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Now,"  muttered  the  judge,  "  who  can  be  the  crim- 
inal?" 

A  dark  suspicion  flashed  across  his  brain,  which  im- 
mediately after  appeared  to  him  utterly  absurd.  He 
rejected  it,  then  thought  of  it  again.  He  turned 
and  returned  it,  examined  it  in  all  its  various  aspects. 
He  was  almost  decided,  when  M.  de  Commarin  entered. 

Daburon's  messenger  had  arrived  just  as  he  was 
alighting  from  his  carriage,  on  returning  with  Claire 
from  Madame  Gerdy's. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PERE  TABARET  had  spoken ;  but  he  had  also  acted. 

Abandoned  by  the  judge  of  inquiry  to  his  own  re- 
sources, he  went  to  work  without  losing  a  moment's 
time  and  without  taking  a  moment's  rest. 

The  story  of  the  cabriolet,  drawn  by  a  swift  horse, 
was  exact  in  every  particular. 

Lavish  with  his  money,  the  old  fellow  had  gathered 
together  a  dozen  detectives  on  leave,  or  out  of  work; 
and  at  the  head  of  these  worthy  assistants,  seconded  by 
his  friend  Lecoq,  he  had  gone  to  Bougival. 

He  had  actually  searched  the  country  house  by  house, 
with  the  obstinacy  and  the  patience  of  a  maniac  hunt- 
ing for  a  needle  in  a  hay-stack. 

His  efforts  were  not  absolutely  wasted. 

After  three  days'  investigation,  he  felt  comparatively 
sure  of  this ;  the  assassin  had  not  left  the  cars  at  Rueil, 
as  all  the  people  of  Bougival,  Jonchere,  and  Marly  do, 
but  had  gone  on  as  far  as  Chatou. 

Tabaret  thought  he  recognized  him  in  a  man,  de- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  395 

scribed  to  him  by  the  employes  at  that  station  as  still 
young,  of  brown  complexion,  with  a  pair  of  black 
whiskers,  laden  with  a  great  coat  and  an  umbrella. 

This  traveller,  who  arrived  by  the  train  which  left 
Paris  for  St.  Germain  at  thirty-five  minutes  past  eight 
in  the  evening,  had  appeared  very  depressed. 

On  quitting  the  station,  he  had  started  off  at  a  rapid 
pace  on  the  road  which  led  to  Bougival.  Upon  the  way, 
two  men  from  Marly  and  a  woman  from  Malmaispn 
had  noticed  him,  and  wondered  at  his  long  strides.  He 
smoked  all  the  way. 

On  crossing  the  bridge  which  joins  the  two  banks 
of  the  Seine  at  Bougival,  he  had  been  again  noticed. 

It  is  usual  to  pay  a  toll  on  crossing  this  bridge ;  and 
the  supposed  assassin  had  apparently  forgotten  this 
circumstance. 

He  had  passed  without  paying,  keeping  up  his  rapid 
pace,  pressing  his  elbows  to  his  side,  husbanding  his 
breath;  and  the  gate-keeper  was  obliged  to  rush  after 
him  for  his  pay. 

He  appeared  much  provoked  at  this  circumstance, 
threw  down  a  ten  sous'  piece,  and  went  on,  without 
waiting  for  the  forty-five  centimes  due  him  as  change. 

Nor  was  that  all. 

The  station  agent  at  Rueil  remembered  that,  two, 
minutes  before  the  quarter  past  ten  train  passed,  a  trav- 
eller arrived  agitated,  and  so  out  of  breath  that  he  could 
scarcely  ask  for  a  ticket — a  second  class  ticket — for 
Paris. 

The  appearance  of  this  man  corresponded  exactly  to 
the  description  given  of  him  by  his  employes,  at 
Chatou,  and  by  the  gate-keeper  at  the  bridge. 

Finally  the  old  man  got  on  the  track  of  an  individual 
who  had  occupied  the  same  compartment  with  him. 


396  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

He  proved  to  be  a  baker  of  Asnieres;  and  he  had 
written  to  him,  asking  an  interview. 

Such  was  Pere  Tabaret's  balance  sheet,  when  on 
Monday  morning  he  presented  himself  at  the  palais  de 
justice,  in  order  to  hear  if  there  had  been  any  informa- 
tion received  as  to  the  Widow  Lerouge's  past  life. 

He  found  that  none  had  arrived;  but  in  the  gallery 
he  met  Gevrol  and  his  man. 

The  chief  of  detectives  was  triumphant,  and  showed 
it,  too.  On  seeing  Tabaret,  he  called  out, — 

"  Ah  well,  my  illustrious  bird's-nest  hunter,  what 
news?  Have  you  found  any  more  mare's  nests,  since 
the  other  day?  Ah,  you  old  rogue,  you  are  aiming  for 
my  place !  " 

The  old  man  was  sadly  changed. 

The  consciousness  of  his  mistake  made  him  humble 
and  meek.  These  pleasantries,  which  a  few  days  before 
would  have  made  him  angry,  now  did  not  touch  him. 
Instead  of  replying,  he  bowed  his  head  in  such  a  peni- 
tent manner  that  Gevrol  was  astonished. 

"  Jeer  at  me,  my  good  Gevrol,"  he  replied,  "  mock 
me  without  pity :  you  are  right ;  I  deserve  it  all." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  chief,  "  you  have  performed  some 
new  masterpiece,  my  ardent  old  fellow !  " 

Pere  Tabaret  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  I  have  delivered  up  an  innocent  man,"  he  said ; 
"  and  justice  will  not  give  him  back  to  me." 

Gevrol  was  delighted,  and  rubbed  his  hands  until  he 
almost  wore  away  the  skin. 

"  This  is  fine,"  he  sang  out,  "  this  is  capital.  To 
bring  criminals  to  justice  is  of  no  account  at  all ;  but  to 
free  the  innocent,  Jove!  that  is  the  last  touch  of  art. 
Papa  Tirauclair,  you  are  a  wonder;  and  I  bow  before 
you." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  397 

At  the  same  time,  he  lifted  his  hat  ironically. 

"  Don't  crush  me,"  replied  the  old  fellow.  "  As  you 
know,  in  spite  of  my  grey  hairs,  I  am  young  in  the  pro- 
fession. Because  chance  has  served  me  three  or  four 
times  I  had  become  foolishly  proud.  I  learned  too  late 
that  I  was  not  all  that  I  had  thought  myself.  I  was  but 
an  apprentice,  and  success  had  turned  my  head ;  while 
you,  Gevrol,  you  were  always  my  master.  In  the  place 
of  laughing  pray  help  me,  aid  me  with  your  counsels 
and  your  experience.  Alone,  I  can  do  nothing  as  well 
as  if  I  had  your  assistance." 

Gevrol  was  elated  in  the  highest  degree. 

Tabaret's  submission,  which  he  really  thought  a 
great  deal  of  at  heart,  tickled  his  pretensions  as  a  de- 
tective immensely. 

He  was  softened. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said  patronizingly,  "  you  refer  to  the 
Jonchere  matter." 

"  Alas !  yes,  dear  Gevrol,  I  wished  to  go  on  without 
you;  but  I  have  been  dished." 

Tabaret's  old  cunning  kept  his  countenance  as  peni- 
tent as  that  of  a  sacristan,  surprised  while  cooking  meat 
on  Friday ;  but  at  heart  he  was  laughing  and  rejoicing 
all  the  while. 

"  Conceited  simpleton !  "  he  thought,  "  I  will  flatter 
you  so  that  you  will  end  by  doing  just  what  I  want  you 
to." 

Gevrol  rubbed  his  nose,  put  out  his  lower  lip,  and 
said,  "  Ah,— hem !  " 

He  pretended  to  hesitate ;  but  it  was  only  because  he 
enjoyed  prolonging  the  old  amateur's  discomfiture. 

"  Come,"  said  he  at  last,  "  cheer  up,  Papa  Tirauclair. 
I  am  a  good  fellow  at  heart ;  and  I'll  give  you  a  lift.  It 
is  kind  in  me,  isn't  it?  But,  to-day,  I  am  entirely  too 


398  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

busy.  I  am  expected  below  now.  Come  to  me  to-mor- 
row morning,  and  we'll  talk  it  over.  But  before  we 
part  I'll  give  you  a  light  to  find  your  way  with.  Do 
you  know  who  this  witness  is  that  I  have  brought?" 

"  No;  but  tell  me,  my  good  Gevrol." 

"  Well,  that  fellow  on  the  bench  there,  who  is  waiting 
for  Monsieur  Daburon,  is  the  husband  of  the  victim  of 
the  Jonchere  tragedy !  " 

"  It  is  impossible,"  said  Pere  Tabaret  stunned.  Then, 
after  reflecting,  he  added,  "  you  are  joking  with  me." 

"  No,  upon  my  word.  Go  ask  him  his  name ;  he 
will  tell  you  that  he  is  called  Pierre  Lerouge." 

"  She  wasn't  a  widow  then  ?  " 

"  It  appears  not,"  replied  Gevrol  sarcastically,  "  since 
there  is  her  happy  spouse." 

"  Whew  !  "  muttered  the  old  fellow.  "  And  does  he 
bring  any  information  ?  " 

In  a  few  sentences,  the  chief  explained  to  his  amateur 
colleague  the  story  that  Lerouge  was  about  to  give  to 
the  judge  of  inquiry. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  "  he  demanded  at  the 
end. 

"  What  do  I  say  to  that?  "  stammered  Pere  Tabaret, 
whose  countenance  indicated  intense  astonishment, 
"  what  do  I  say  to  that  ?  I  don't  say  any  thing.  But 
I  think, — no,  I  don't  think  at  all !  " 

"  A  tile  has  fallen,  eh,  what  ?  "  said  Gevrol  beaming. 

"  Say  rather  a  blow  of  a  club,"  replied  Tabaret. 

But  suddenly  he  recovered  himself,  giving  his  fore- 
head a  hard  blow  with  his  fist. 

"  And  my  baker !  "  he  cried,  "  to-morrow,  then,  Gev- 
rol." 

"  He  is  crazed,"  thought  the  chief  of  detectives. 

The  old  fellow  was  sane  enough ;  but  he  had  entirely 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  399 

forgotten  the  Asnieres  baker,  whom  he  had  appointed 
to  meet  at  his  house.  He  might  find  him  there  still. 

On  the  stairway  he  met  Daburon;  but  he  hardly 
deigned  to  reply  to  him. 

He  was  soon  out,  and  trotting  like  a  lean  cat  along 
the  quays. 

''  There ;  we'll  fix  it  all  right,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"Noel  may  feel  bad;  but  he  shan't  suffer.  Pshaw! 
if  he  likes,  I'll  adopt  him.  Tabaret  doesn't  sound  so 
well  as  Commarin,  but  it's  at  least  a  name.  No  matter. 
Gevrol's  story  affects  in  no  way  Albert's  situation  nor 
my  convictions.  He  is  the  legitimate  son ;  so  much  the 
better  for  him.  That  doesn't  in  any  way  prove  his  in- 
nocence, though,  unless  I  am  mistaken.  He  evidently 
knows  nothing  of  these  surprising  circumstances,  any 
more  than  his  father.  He  must  believe,  as  well  as  the 
count,  in  the  substitution  having  taken  place.  Madame 
Gerdy,  too,  must  have  been  ignorant  of  these  facts ;  they 
must  have  invented  some  story  to  explain  the  scar. 
But  then  she  must  have  known  that  Noel  was  really 
her  son ;  for  she  had  placed  a  mark  of  recognition  upon 
him,  which  she  of  course  examined  when  he  was  re- 
turned to  her.  Then,  when  Noel  discovered  the  count's 
letters,  she  must  have  hastened  to  explain  to  him — " 

Pere  Tabaret  stopped  as  suddenly  as  if  his  path  were 
obstructed  by  a  dangerous  reptile. 

He  was  terrified  at  the  conclusion  he  had  reached. 

"  Noel,  then,  must  be  the  assassin  of  the  Widow  Le- 
rouge,  that  he  might  prevent  her  confessing  that  the 
substitution  never  took  place;  and  he  burnt  the  letters 
and  papers  which  proved  it !  " 

But  he  pushed  away  with  horror  this  supposition,  as 
every  honest  man  drives  away  a  detestable  thought 
which  by  accident  gets  into  his  mind. 


400  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  What  an  old  fool  I  am !  "  he  exclaimed,  resuming 
his  walk ;  "  this  is  the  result  of  the  dreadful  profession 
I  used  to  glory  in  following.  Suspect  Noel,  my  boy, 
my  sole  heir,  the  personification  of  virtue  and  honor, — 
Noel,  whom  ten  years  of  constant  intercourse  have 
taught  me  to  esteem  and  admire  to  such  a  degree  that 
I  would  speak  for  him  as  I  would  for  myself  ?  Men  of 
his  class  must  have  terrible  passions  to  push  them  to 
shedding  blood :  and  I  have  never  known  Noel  to  have 
but  two  passions,  his  mother,  and  his  profession.  And 
I  dare  even  to  breathe  a  suspicion  against  this  noble 
character !  I  ought  to  be  whipped.  Old  fool !  isn't 
the  lesson  you  have  already  received  sufficiently  terrible  ? 
Will  you  never  be  more  cautious  ?  " 

Thus  he  reasoned,  forcing  himself  to  repel  these  dis- 
quieting thoughts,  and  restraining  his  habits  of  investi- 
gation ;  but  in  his  heart  a  tormenting  voice  constantly 
whispered,  "  Could  it  be  Noel  ?  " 

Pere  Tabaret  arrived  at  the  Rue  St.  Lazare.  Before 
his  door  stood  an  elegant  blue  coupe,  drawn  by  a  mag- 
nificent horse.  Mechanically  he  stopped. 

"  A  handsome  animal !  "  he  said ;  "  my  lodgers  must 
be  receiving  some  fine  callers." 

They  were  apparently  receiving  very  bad  ones,  too ; 
for,  at  that  moment,  he  saw  Clergeot  coming  out,  honest 
Clergeot,  whose  presence  in  a  house  betrayed  ruin  just 
as  surely  as  the  presence  of  undertakers  indicate  death. 

The  old  detective,  who  knew  everybody,  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  honest  banker.  He  had  even  had 
business  with  him  once,  examining  his  books. 

He  stopped  him. 

"  Halloa !  you  old  crocodile,"  said  he ;  "  you  have 
business,  then,  in  my  house?  " 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  401 

"  So  it  seems,"  replied  Clergeot  dryly,  not  liking  to  be 
treated  with  such  familiarity. 

"Hold  on !  "  shouted  Pere  Tabaret. 

And,  urged  by  the  very  natural  curiosity  of  a  pro- 
prietor very  careful  about  the  kind  of  lodgers  he  takes, 
he  added, — 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you  ruining  now  ?  " 

"  I  never  ruin  any  one,"  replied  Clergeot,  with  an  air 
of  offended  dignity.  "  Have  you  ever  had  reason  to 
complain  of  me  in  our  affairs?  I  think  not.  Ask  the 
young  advocate  up  there,  who  does  business  with  me,  if 
you  like ;  he  will  tell  you  whether  he  has  reason  to  regret 
knowing  me." 

Tabaret  was  painfully  impressed. 

What,  Noel,  the  prudent  Noel,  one  of  Clergeot's  cus- 
tomers! What  could  that  mean?  Perhaps  there  was 
no  harm  in  it ;  but  he  remembered  the  fifteen  thousand 
francs  of  Thursday. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  wishing  to  get  a  little  more  informa- 
tion, "  I  know  that  young  Gerdy  spends  a  pretty  round 
sum." 

Clergeot  was  always  sensitive,  and  never  left  his 
profession  undefended  when  attacked. 

"  It  isn't  he  personally,"  he  objected,  "  who  makes 
the  money  dance;  it's  that  charming  little  girl  of  his. 
Ah,  she's  a  great  one ;  she'd  eat  the  devil,  hoofs,  horns, 
and  all ! " 

What,  a  mistress, — a  creature  whom  Clergeot  himself, 
fond  of  the  little  girls,  considered  expensive !  This  rev- 
elation, at  this  time,  pierced  the  old  man  to  the  heart. 
But  he  dissembled.  A  gesture,  a  look,  might  awaken  the 
usurer's  defiance,  and  close  his  mouth. 

"  That's  well  known:,"  he  replied,  in  as  careless  a  tone 


402  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

as  he  could  muster ;  "  youth  must  have  something  to 
amuse  itself  with.  But  what  do  you  suppose  that  this 
little  girl  costs  him  a  year  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  He  is  wrong  in  not  limiting  her. 
According  to  my  calculation,  she  must  have,  during  the 
four  years  that  he  has  had  her,  cost  him  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  five  hundred  thousand  francs." 

Four  years  ?     Five  hundred  thousand  francs ! 

These  words,  these  figures,  burst  like  a  bombshell  on 
Tabaret's  brain. 

A  half  million ! 

In  that  case,  Noel  must  be  utterly  ruined.  But 
then — 

"  It  is  a  great  deal,"  said  he,  succeeding  by  desperate 
efforts  in  hiding  his  sufferings ;  "  it  is  enormous ;  but 
then,  Gerdy  has  resources." 

"  He  ?  "  interrupted  the  usurer,  shrugging  his  should- 
ers. "  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  added,  snapping  his  fingers ; 
"  he  is  utterly  ruined.  But,  if  he  owes  you  money,  never 
fear.  He  is  a  sly  dog:  he  is  going  to  get  married.  I 
have  just  renewed  his  notes  for  twenty-six  thousand 
francs,  on  that  understanding.  Au  revoir,  Monsieur 
Tabaret." 

The  usurer  hurried  away,  leaving  the  poor  old  fellow 
standing  still  as  a  stone  in  the  street. 

He  experienced  something  of  that  terrible  grief  which 
breaks  a  father's  heart,  when  he  begins  to  realize 
that  his  dearly-loved  son  is  perhaps  the  worst  of  scoun- 
drels. 

And,  moreover,  such  was  his  confidence  in  Noel  that 
he  struggled  with  his  reason  to  again  resist  the  sus- 
picion which  tormented  him.  Might  not  this  usurer 
be  slandering  the  advocate  ? 

People  who  demand  more  than  ten  per  cent,  are  capa- 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  403 

ble  of  any  thing.  Evidently  he  had  exaggerated  the 
extent  of  Noel's  follies. 

And,  even  if  it  were  true,  have  not  many  men  done 
just  such  insane  things  for  women,  without  ceasing  to 
be  honest? 

He  was  about  entering  his  door. 

A  whirlwind  of  silk,  lace,  and  velvet  barred  the  pas- 
sage. 

A  bright  young  brunette  was  coming  out. 

She  jumped  as  lightly  as  a  bird  into  the  blue  coupe. 

Pere  Tabaret  was  a  gallant  man,  and  the  young  girl 
was  most  charming ;  but  he  never  even  glanced  at  her. 

He  entered ;  and  beneath  the  arch  he  found  his  porter 
standing,  cap  in  hand,  looking  tenderly  with  his  one  eye 
at  a  twenty  franc  piece. 

"  Ah,  monsieur*"  said  the  man,  "  such  a  fine  lady,  so 
ladylike!  If  you  had  only  been  here  five  minutes 
sooner." 

"What  lady?  why?" 

"  This  fine  lady,  who  just  went  out,  monsieur,  she 
came  to  inquire  about  Monsieur  Gerdy.  She  gave  me 
twenty  francs  for  answering  her  questions.  It  seems 
that  monsieur  is  going  to  be  married;  and  she  was 
evidently  much  excited  at  it.  Superb  creature !  I  know 
now  why  he  is  out  every  night." 

"  Monsieur  Gerdy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur ;  but  I  have  never  spoken  to  you  of 
it,  because  he  seemed  to  hide  it.  He  never  asked  me  to 
open  for  him :  no,  he  wasn't  such  a  fool.  He  slipped 
out  by  the  little  back  gate.  I  said  to  myself,  '  He  don't 
want  to  disturb  me :  it  is  very  thoughtful  on  his  part ; 
and  he  seems  to  enjoy  it  so.'  " 

The  porter  spoke  with  his  eye  constantly  fixed  on  the 
gold  piece. 


404  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

When  he  raised  his  head  to  examine  the  countenance 
of  his  master,  Tabaret  had  disappeared. 

"  There  is  another  fine  fellow !  "  said  the  porter  to 
himself.  "  A  hundred  sous,  that  master  runs  after  the 
superb  creature.  Run  ahead;  go  it,  old  graybeard." 
The  porter  was  right.  Pere  Tabaret  did  run  after  the 
lady  in  the  blue  coupe. 

He  thought,  "  She  will  tell  me  all ;  "  and  instantly  he 
was  in  the  street. 

He  reached  it  just  in  time  to  see  the  blue  coupe  turn 
the  corner  of  the  Rue  St.  Lazare. 

"  Heavens !  "  he  muttered,  "  I  shall  lose  sight  of  her, 
just  when  the  truth  is  in  my  grasp." 

He  was  in  one  of  those  states  of  nervous  excitement 
which  call  forth  prodigies. 

He  ran  to  the  end  of  the  Rue  St.  Lazare  as  rapidly  as 
if  he  had  been  a  young  man  of  twenty. 

Joy !  Five  steps  from  him  he  saw  the  blue  coupe  in 
the  Rue  Havre,  stopped  in  the  midst  of  a  blockade  of 
carriages. 

"  I  have  her."  he  murmured. 

He  looked  all  through  the  neighborhood  of  the  Quest, 
that  street  where  unemployed  carriages  are  almost  in- 
variably roving ;  not  a  carriage ! 

Gladly  would  he  have  cried,  like  Richard  the  III., — 

"  My  kingdom  for  a  hackney  coach." 

The  blue  coupe  got  out  of  the  entanglement,  and 
started  off  rapidly  towards  the  Rue  Tronchet.  The  old 
fellow  followed  after. 

He  kept  his  ground.  The  coupe  gained  but  little 
upon  him. 

While  he  was  running  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  keep- 
ing an  eye  out  for  a  carriage,  he  kept  saying, — 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  405 

"  Follow  on,  old  fellow,  follow  on.  If  you  haven't  a 
head,  you  must  use  your  legs.  Why  didn't  you  re- 
member to  get  this  woman's  address  from  Clergeot? 
You  must  be  sharper  than  that,  my  old  friend,  sharper 
than  that ! 

"  If  you  want  to  be  a  detective,  you  must  be  fit  for  the 
profession ;  and  every  detective  ought  to  have  the  shanks 
of  a  deer." 

He  thought  only  of  catching  up  with  the  blue  coupe 
and  of  nothing  else.  But  he  was  losing  ground, — plainly 
losing  ground. 

He  was  only  half  way  down  the  Rue  Tronchet,  and 
he  broke  down :  he  felt  that  his  limbs  could  not  carry 
him  a  hundred  steps  farther ;  and  the  cursed  coupe  had 
reached  the  Madeleine. 

Hurrah !  a  covered  hack,  going  in  the  same  direction 
with  himself,  passed  by. 

He  made  a  sign  more  despairing  than  a  drowning 
man's.  The  sign  was  seen.  He  gathered  together  his 
last  strength,  and  with  a  bound  jumped  up  into  the  vehi- 
cle without  the  aid  of  the  step. 

"  There,"  he  gasped,  "  that  blue  coupe ;  twenty 
francs." 

"  All  right,"  replied  the  coachman,  nodding. 

And  he  covered  his  ill-conditioned  horse  with  vigor- 
ous blows,  muttering, — 

"  A  jealous  husband  following  his  wife ;  that's  evi- 
dent. Hi,  you  rascal !  " 

As  for  Pere  Tabaret,  he  was  a  long  time  in  recover- 
ing himself,  his  strength  was  so  completely  exhausted. 

For  nearly  a  minute,  he  could  not  catch  his  breath. 
They  were  soon  upon  the  boulevarde.  He  stood  up  in 
the  carriage,  supporting  himself  by  the  driver's  seat. 


406  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  I  don't  see  the  coupe  any  longer,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  see  it  plainly !  But  it  is  drawn  by  a  splendid 
horse ! " 

"  Yours  ought  to  be  a  better  one.  I  said  twenty 
francs;  I'll  make  it  forty." 

The  driver  whipped  up  unpityingly,  and  growled, — 

"  There  is  no  use  talking,  I  must  catch  her.  For 
twenty  francs,  I  would  have  let  her  escape ;  for  I  love 
the  girls,  and  always  help  them  if  I  can.  But,  gracious ! 
Two  louis !  I  wonder  how  a  man  who  is  as  ugly  as  that 
can  be  jealous." 

Pere  Tabaret  tried  every  way  to  occupy  his  mind  with 
less  important  matters. 

He  tried  not  to  reflect,  wishing  first  to  see  this  woman, 
speak  with  her,  and  carefully  question  her. 

He  was  sure  that  by  one  word  she  would  destroy  or 
save  her  lover. 

"  What,  destroy  Noel  ?  Ah,  well,  yes." 

This  idea  of  Noel  as  the  assassin  harassed,  tormented, 
pestered  his  brain,  like  the  moth  which  coming  over 
and  over  again,  wounds  itself  at  last  against  the  glass, 
or  burns  in  the  flame. 

As  they  passed  Chausee  d'Antin,  the  blue  coupe  was 
scarcely  thirty  paces  in  advance.  The  driver  of  the 
hack  turned,  and  said, — 

"  The  coupe  has  stopped." 

"  Then  stop  also.  Don't  lose  sight  of  it ;  but  be  ready 
to  start  again  at  the  same  time  it  does." 

Pere  Tabaret  leaned  as  far  as  he  could  out  of  the 
hack. 

The  young  girl  got  out,  crossed  the  pavement,  and  en- 
tered a  shop  where  cashmere  and  laces  were  sold. 

"  There,"  thought  Pere  Tabaret,  "  is  where  the  thou- 
sand franc  notes  go!  Half  a  million  in  four  years! 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  40; 

What  can  these  creatures  do  with  the  money  so  lav- 
ishly poured  upon  them?  Do.  they  eat  it?  On  the 
altar  of  what  caprices  do  they  squander  their  fortunes? 
They  are  the  devil's  own  love  potions,  given  to  these 
idiots  to  drink,  making  them  ruin  themselves  for  them. 
They  must  possess  some  peculiar  art  of  preparing  and 
spicing  pleasure ;  since,  once  they  get  hold  of  a  man,  he 
sacrifices  every  thing  before  leaving  them." 

The  hack  moved  on  once  more,  but  soon  stopped 
again. 

The  coupe  made  a  new  pause,  this  time  before  a 
curiosity  shop. 

"  The  woman  wants  to  buy  out  all  Paris !  "  said  the 
old  fellow  to  himself  in  a  passion.  "  Yes,  if  Noel  com- 
mitted the  crime,  it  was  she  who  pushed  him  on.  These 
are  my  fifteen  thousand  francs  that  she  is  frittering 
away  now.  How  long  will  they  last  her?  It  must 
have  been  for  money,  then,  that  Noel  murdered  this  Le- 
rouge  woman.  He  must  be  the  lowest,  most  infamous 
of  men !  What  a  monster  of  dissimulation  and  hypoc- 
risy! And  to  think  that  he  would  be  my  heir,  if  I 
should  die  here  in  my  rage!  Yes,  it  is  written  in  so 
many  words,  '  I  leave  to  my  son  Noel  Gerdy ! '  If  this 
boy  is  guilty,  there  isn't  a  punishment  sufficiently  great 
for  him.  I  wonder  if  this  woman  is  never  going 
home !  " 

"  This  woman  "  was  in  no  hurry.  The  day  was 
charming,  her  toilette  irresistible;  and  she  intended 
showing  herself  off.  She  visited  three  or  four  more 
stores,  and  at  last  stopped  at  a  confectioner's,  where  she 
remained  for  more  than  quarter  of  an  hour. 

The  old  fellow,  driven  to  destruction,  jumped  and 
stamped  in  his  hack. 

It  was  torture  thus  to  be  kept  from  the  key  to  a  ter- 


4o8  THE  WIDOW  LKROUGE 

rible  enigma  by  the  caprice  of  a  worthless  hussy !  He 
was  dying  to  follow  her,  take  her  by  the  arm,  and  cry 
out  to  her, — 

"  Home,  wretched  creature,  home  at  once !  What 
are  you  doing  here?  Don't  you  know  that  at  this  mo- 
ment your  lover,  he  whom  you  have  ruined,  is  suspected 
of  an  assassination?  Home,  then,  that  I  may  question 
you,  that 'I  may  learn  from  you  whether  he  is  innocent 
or  guilty;  for  you  can  tell  me,  without  a  doubt,  and  I 
have  prepared  a  fine  trap  to  catch  you  with.  Home,  for 
this  anxiety  is  killing  me !  " 

She  returned  to  her  carriage. 

It  moved  on,  passed  up  the  Faubourg  Montmarte, 
turned  into  the  Rue  Provence,  deposited  its  fair  freight 
at  her  own  door,  and  drove  away. 

"  She  lives  here,"  said  Pere  Tabaret,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

He  got  off  the  hack,  gave  the  driver  his  two  louis, 
bade  him  wait,  and  followed  the  young  girl's  footsteps. 

"  The  old  fellow  is  patient,"  thought  the  driver ;  "  but 
the  little  brunette  is  a  sly  one." 

The  old  detective  opened  the  door  of  the  porter's 
lodge. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  lady  who  has  just  en- 
tered ?  "  he  demanded. 

The  porter  did  not  seem  disposed  to  reply. 

"  Her  name !  "  insisted  the  old  man. 

The  tone  was  so  short,  so  imperative,  that  the  old 
porter  was  upset. 

"  Madame  Juliette  Chaffour,"  he  replied. 

"On  what  floor?" 

"  The  second, — the  door  opposite  you." 

A  moment  after,  the  old  man  was  waiting  in  Madame 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  409 

Juliette's  parlors.   Madame  was  dressing,  the  chamber- 
maid informed  him,  and  would  be  down  instantly. 

Pere  Tabaret  was  astonished  at  the  luxury  of  this 
parlor.  There  was  nothing  flaring,  or  coarse,  or  in  bad 
taste.  The  old  fellow  who  knew  a  good  deal  about  such 
things,  saw  that  every  thing  was  of  the  costliest.  The 
ornaments  on  the  mantel  alone  must  have  cost,  at  the 
lowest  estimation,  twenty  thousand  francs. 

"  Clergeot,"  he  said,  "  didn't  exaggerate  a  bit." 

Juliette's  entrance  disturbed  his  reflections. 

She  had  taken  off  her  dress,  and  had  hastily  thrown 
about  her  a  black  dressing-gown,  trimmed  with  cherry 
satin.  Her  beautiful  hair,  slightly  disordered  after  her 
drive,  fell  in  cascades  upon  her  neck,  and  was  fastened 
behind  her  delicate  ears.  She  dazzled  Pere  Tabaret ;  and 
yet  he  perfectly  understood  such  follies. 

"  You  wished  to  speak  with  me  ? "  she  inquired, 
bending  graciously. 

"  Madame,"  replied  Pere  Tabaret,  "  I  am  a  friend  of 
Noel  Gerdy's,  I  may  say  his  best  friend,  and  " — 

"  Pray  sit  down,  monsieur,"  interrupted  the  lady. 

She  placed  herself  on  a  sofa,  just  showing  the  tips 
of  her  little  feet  encased  in  slippers  matching  the  dress ; 
while  the  old  man  sat  down  in  a  chair. 

"  I  come,  madame,"  he  began,  "  on  very  serious 
business.  Your  presence  at  Monsieur  Gerdy's  house — 

"  Ah,"  cried  Juliette  to  herself,  "  he  knows  of  my 
visit  already ;  he  must  be  a  detective." 

"  My  dear  child — "  began  Tabaret,  paternally. 

"  Oh !  I  know,  monsieur,  what  your  errand  is.  Noel 
has  sent  you  to  scold  me.  He  is  anxious  to  prevent  my 
coming  to  his  house.  Well,  I  don't  want  to  go;  but 
it's  annoying  to  have  a  puzzle  for  a  lover, — a  man  whom 


410  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

nobody  knows  anything  about,  a  riddle  in  a  black  coat 
and  white  cravat,  a  sad  and  mysterious  being — •" 

"  You  have  been  imprudent." 

"  Why  ?  Because  he  is  going  to  get  married  ?  He 
has  told  you  all  about  it,  then  ?  " 

"  Suppose  that  that  was  not  true." 

"  Oh,  but  it  is !  He  told  that  old  shark  Clergeot  so, 
who  told  me.  Any  way,  he  must  be  plotting  something 
in  that  head  of  his;  for  the  last  month  he  has 
been  so  fickle ;  he  has  changed  so  that  I  hardly  recognize 
him." 

Pere  Tabaret  was  especially  anxious  to  know  whether 
Noel  had  prepared  an  alibi  for  the  Tuesday  of  the  crime. 
That  for  him  was  the  grand  question.  If  he  had,  he 
was  certainly  guilty ;  if  not,  he  might  still  be  innocent. 
Madame  Juliette,  he  had  no  doubt,  could  make  that  point 
perfectly  clear. 

Consequently  he  had  come  with  his  lesson  all  pre- 
pared, his  little  trap  all  set. 

The  young  lady's  outburst  disconcerted  him  a  little ; 
but  he  continued,  trusting  to  the  chances  in  conversa- 
tion,— 

"  Will  you  prevent  Noel's  marriage,  then  ?  " 

"  His  marriage !  "  cried  Juliette,  bursting  out  into  a 
laugh ;  "  ah,  the  poor  boy !  If  he  meets  no  worse  ob- 
stacle than  myself,  his  path  will  be  smooth.  Let  him 
marry,  this  dear  Noel,  the  sooner  the  better,  and  let  me 
hear  no  more  of  him." 

"  You  don't  love  him,  then  ?  "  asked  the  old  fellow, 
surprised  at  this  amiable  frankness. 

"Listen,  monsieur.  I  did  love  him  intensely;  but 
that's  all  over  now.  For  four  years,  I  have  passed  an 
intolerable  existence, — I,  who  am  so  fond  of  pleasure. 
If  Noel  doesn't  leave  me,  I  shall  have  to  leave  him.  I 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  411 

am  tired  of  having  a  lover  who  blushes  for  me  and  de- 
spises me." 

"  If  he  despises  you,  my  dear,  he  scarcely  shows  it 
here,"  replied  Pere  Tabaret,  casting  a  significant  glance 
about  the  room. 

"  You  mean,"  said  the  girl,  raising  herself,  "  that 
he  spends  a  great  deal  for  me.  It  is  true.  He  pretends 
that  he  has  ruined  himself  for  me;  it's  very  possible. 
But  what's  that  to  me?  I  am  not  a  hard-hearted  wo- 
man; and  I  would  much  prefer  less  money  and  more 
love.  My  follies  have  been  inspired  by  anger  and  ennui. 
Monsieur  Gerdy  treats  me  like  a  mercenary  woman; 
and  so  I  act  like  one.  We  are  quits." 

"  You  know  well  that  he  worships  you." 

"  He  ?  I  tell  you  he  is  ashamed  of  me.  He  hides  me 
like  a  secret  crime.  You  are  the  first  of  his  friends  to 
whom  I  have  ever  spoken.  Ask  him  if  he  has  ever  rid- 
den out  with  me?  It  would  seem  as  though  my  very 
touch  was  dishonor.  Why,  no  longer  ago  than  last  Tues- 
day, we  went  to  the  theatre!  He  hired  an  entire  box; 
but  do  you  think  that  he  sat  in  it  with  me  ?  Not  at  all. 
He  slipped  away ;  and  I  saw  no  more  of  him  the  whole 
evening." 

"  How  ?    Were  you  obliged  to  return  home  alone  ?  " 

"  No.  At  the  end  of  the  play,  nearly  midnight,  he 
deigned  to  reappear.  Then  we  went  to  the  opera  ball, 
where  we  took  supper.  Ah,  that  was  charming!  But, 
at  the  ball,  he  didn't  dare  to  let  down  his  hood,  or  to 
take  off  his  mask.  At  supper,  I  had  to  treat  him  like  a 
perfect  stranger,  for  fear  of  his  friends." 

This,  then,  was  the  alibi  prepared  in  case  of  trouble. 

Less  wrapped  up  in  her  own  passion,  Juliette  would 
have  noticed  Pere  Tabaret's  looks,  and  would  certainly 
have  checked  herself. 


412  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

He  was  perfectly  livid,  and  trembled  like  a  leaf 

"  Well,"  he  said,  making  a  superhuman  effort  to  ar- 
ticulate his  words,  "  the  supper,  I  suppose,  was  none  the 
less  gay  for  that." 

"  Gay !  "  repeated  the  girl,  shrugging  her  shoulders ; 
"  you  would  scarcely  have  known  him.  If  you  ever  ask 
him  to  dinner,  take  good  care  how  you  allow  him  to 
drink.  He  made  as  merry  over  his  wine  as  a  drunken 
sailor.  At  the  second  bottle,  he  was  as  light  headed  as  a 
cork ;  so  much  so,  that  he  lost  every  thing  he  had, — his 
coat,  purse,  umbrella,  cigar-case — " 

Pere  Tabaret  hadn't  strength  enough  to  listen  longer ; 
he  jumped  to  his  feet  like  a  furious  madman. 

"  Miserable  wretch  ! ''  he  cried  to  himself,  "  infamous 
scoundrel !  It  is  he ;  but  I  have  him." 

And  he  rushed  out,  leaving  Juliette  so  terrified  that 
she  called  her  maid. 

"  Child,"  said  she,  "  I  have  made  some  dreadful  blun- 
der; have  let  some  secret  out.  I  know  I  have  done 
wrong;  I  feel  it.  That  old  fellow  was  no  friend  of 
Noel's  he  came  to  circumvent  me,  to  lead  me  by  the 
nose;  and  he  has  done  it.  Without  a  doubt  I  have 
spoken  against  Noel.  What  could  I  have  said  ?  I  have 
thought  carefully ;  but  I  can  remember  nothing :  he  must 
be  warned  though.  I  will  write  him  a  line,  while  you 
get  a  messenger." 

Getting  again  into  the  hack,  Pere  Tabaret  hurried  to- 
wards the  prefecture  of  police.  Noel  an  assassin !  His 
hate  was  now  without  bounds,  as  formerly  had  been  his 
trusting  love.  He  had  been  cruelly  played  with,  unwor- 
thily duped  by  the  vilest,  most  criminal  of  men.  He 
thirsted  for  vengeance  ;  he  tried  to  think  of  some  punish- 
ment which  was  not  too  small  for  the  crime. 

"  For  he  has  not  only  assassinated  Claudine,"  thought 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  413 

he,  "  but  he  has  so  arranged  the  whole  thing  as  to  have 
an  innocent  man  accused  and  condemned.  And  who 
knows  that  he  did  not  kill  his  poor  mother  ?  " 

He  regretted  the  abolition  of  torture,  the  refined 
cruelty  of  the  middle  ages,  quartering,  the  stake,  the 
wheel. 

The  guillotine  was  too  quick;  the  condemned  man 
had  scarcely  time  to  feel  the  cold  steel  cutting  through 
his  muscles ;  there  is  nothing  but  a  single  twitch  of  the 
neck.  In  trying  to  soften  the  pain  of  death,  it  had  been 
made  nowadays  almost  a  pleasure. 

The  certainty  of  confronting  Noel,  of  delivering  him 
up  to  justice,  of  taking  vengeance  upon  him,  alone  kept 
Tabaret  up. 

"  It  is  clear,"  he  muttered,  "  that  the  wretch  forgot 
those  things  at  the  railway,  in  his  haste  to  rejoin  his  mis- 
tress. Have  they  yet  been  called  for?  If  he  has  had 
the  prudence  to  go  boldly,  and  get  them  under  a  false 
name,  I  can  see  no  further  proofs  against  him.  The 
testimony  of  this  Madame  Chaffour  won't  be  on  my  side. 
The  hussy,  seeing  her  lover  in  danger,  will  deny  what 
she  has  just  told  me :  she  will  assert  that  Noel  quitted 
her  after  ten  o'clock.  But  he  can't  have  dared  to  go  to 
the  railway  again." 

About  the  middle  of  the  Rue  Richelieu,  Pere  Tabaret 
was  taken  with  a  sudden  faintness. 

"  I  am  going  to  have  an  attack,  I  fear,"  thought  he, 
"  If  I  die,  Noel  will  escape  me,  and  will  still  be  my  heir. 
A  man  ought  always  to  keep  his  will  constantly  with 
him,  to  destroy  it,  if  he  wishes." 

Twenty  paces  on,  he  saw  a  doctor's  sign :  he  stopped 
the  hack,  and  rushed  into  the  house. 

He  was  so  excited,  so  beside  himself,  his  eyes  had 
such  an  expression  of  wildness,  that  the  doctor  was  al- 


4H  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

most  afraid  of  this  remarkable  patient,  who  cried  to 
him  hoarsely, — 

"  Bleed  me !  " 

The  doctor  ventured  an  objection ;  but  already  the  old 
fellow  had  taken  off  his  coat,  and  drawn  up  one  of  his 
shirt-sleeves. 

"  Bleed  me !  "  he  repeated.  "  Do  you  want  me  to 
die?" 

The  doctor  finally  obeyed;  and  Pere  Tabaret  came 
out  quieted  and  relieved. 

An  hour  later,  armed  with  the  necessary  power,  and 
accompanied  by  a  policeman,  he  proceeded  to  the  depart- 
ment of  lost  articles  at  the  railway,  to  make  the  neces- 
sary search. 

His  investigations  resulted  as  he  had  expected. 

He  found  that,  on  the  evening  of  Shrove  Tuesday, 
there  had  been  found  in  one  of  the  second  class  com- 
partments of  train  forty-five  a  great  coat  and  an  um- 
brella. 

They  showed  him  the  articles;  and  he  recognized 
them  as  Noel's. 

In  one  of  the  pockets  of  the  great  coat,  he  found  a 
pair  of  pearl  gray  gloves,  torn  and  soiled,  as  well  as  a 
return  ticket  from  Chatou,  which  had  not  been  used. 

In  hurrying  on,  in  pursuit  of  the  truth,  Pere  Tabaret 
knew  only  too  well  what  this  meant. 

His  conviction,  unwillingly  formed  when  Clergeot 
disclosed  to  him  Noel's  follies,  had  been  since  strength- 
ened by  a  thousand  circumstances.  At  Juliette's 
house  he  became  positively  sure ;  and  yet,  at  this  last 
moment,  when  doubt  became  absolutely  impossible,  in 
seeing  the  evidence  cleared  up,  he  was  depressed. 

"  On,"  he  cried  at  last.     "  Now  to  arrest  him." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  415 

And,  without  losing  an  instant,  he  hastened  to  the 
palais  de  justice,  where  he  hoped  to  fi\d  i1  e  judge  of 
inquiry. 

Notwithstanding  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  Daburon 
had  not  yet  left  his  office. 

He  was  conversing  with  the  Count  de  -  Commarin, 
giving  him  the  facts  revealed  by  Pierre  r  roug  .  whom 
the  count  had  believed  dead  many  years  since. 

Pere  Tabaret  entered  like  a  whirlwind,  too  distracted 
to  notice  the  presence  of  a  stranger. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  cried,  stuttering  with  rage,  "  we  have 
got  the  real  assassin !  It  is  he,  my  adopted  son,  my  heir, 
Noel!" 

"  Noel !  "  repeated  Daburon,  rising.  And  then,  in  a 
lower  tone,  he  added,  "  I  had  suspected  it." 

"  A  warrant  is  necessary  at  once,"  continued  the  old 
detective.  "  If  we  lose  a  minute,  he  will  slip  through 
our  fingers.  He  will  know  that  he  is  discovered,  if  his 
mistress  has  time  to  warn  him  of  my  visit.  Hasten, 
monsieur,  hasten !  " 

Daburon  opened  his  lips  to  ask  an  explanation;  but 
the  old  detective  continued, — 

"  That  is  not  yet  all.  An  innocent  man,  Albert,  is 
still  in  prison." 

"  He  will  not  be  so  an  hour  longer,"  replied  the  mag- 
istrate ;  "  a  moment  before  your  arrival,  I  had  made 
arrangements  to  have  him  released.  But  about  this 
other — '' 

Neither  Pere  Tabaret  nor  Daburon  had  noticed  the 
disappearance  of  the  Count  de  Commarin. 

At  Noel's  name  he  had  gained  the  door  quietly,  and 
rushed  into  the  gallery. 


416  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

NOEL  had  promised  to  use  every  effort, — to  attempt 
even  the  impossible, — to  obtain  Albert's  release. 

He  in  fact  did  interview  some  members  of  the  bar, 
but  managed  to  be  repulsed  everywhere. 

At  four  o'clock,  he  called  at  the  Count  de  Commarin's 
house,  to  inform  the  count  of  the  slight  success  he  had 
met. 

"  The  count  has  gone  out,"  said  Denis ;  "  but  if  you 
will  take  the  trouble  to  wait — " 

"  I  will  wait,"  answered  Noel. 

"  Then,"  replied  the  valet,  "  will  you  please  follow 
me?  I  have  the  count's  orders  to  take  you  into  his 
study;' 

This  trust  gave  Noel  an  idea  of  his  new  power.  He 
was  at  home.  Henceforth,  in  this  magnificent  house,  he 
was  to  be  master, — the  heir !  His  eye,  which  ran  over 
the  entire  room,  was  caught  by  a  genealogical  table, 
hanging  above  the  mantel.  He  went  up  to  it,  and  read 
it. 

It  was  a  page,  and  one  of  the  most  illustrious,  taken 
from  the  golden  book  of  French  nobility.  Every  name 
which  has  a  place  in  our  history  was  there.  The  Com- 
marins  had  mingled  their  blood  with  all  the  great  houses, 
two  of  them  had  even  married  daughters  of  the  reigning 
family.  A  warm  glow  of  pride  filled  the  advocate's 
heart;  his  pulse  beat  quicker:  he  raised  his  head 
haughtily,  as  he  muttered.' — 

"  Viscount  de  Commarin !  " 

The  door  opened'.  He  turned,  and  saw  the  count  en- 
tering. 

At  once  Noel  bowed  respectfully.     He  was  petrified 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  417 

by  the  look  of  hatred,  anger,  contempt,  on  his  father's 
face. 

A  shiver  ran  through  his  veins.  His  teeth  chattered ; 
he  saw  that  he  was  lost. 

"  Wretch !  "  cried  the  count. 

And, ,  dreading  his  own  violence,  the  old  gentleman 
threw  his  cane  into  a  corner. 

He  was  unwilling  to  strike  his  son ;  he  considered  him 
unworthy  of  being  struck  by  his  hands. 

After  he  had  entered,  there  was  a  moment  of  mortal 
silence  which  seemed  to  them  both  a  century. 

Both  at  the  same  time  were  filled  with  bitter  thoughts, 
which  would  require  a  volume  to  transcribe. 

Noel  took  courage,  and  spoke  first. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  began. 

"  Silence !  "  exclaimed  the  count  hoarsely ;  "  keep  si- 
lent. It  may  be — heaven  forgive  me ! — that  you  are  my 
son !  Alas,  I  cannot  doubt  it  now  !  Wretch !  you  knew 
well  that  you  were  Madame  Gerdy's  son.  Infamous 
creature!  you  have  not  only  committed  this  murder, 
but  you  have  caused  an  innocent  man  to  be  charged  with 
your  crime.  Parricide!  you  have  also  killed  your 
mother." 

The  advocate  attempted  to  stammer  forth  a  protest. 

"  You  killed  her,"  continued  the  count  with  increased 
energy,  "  if  not  by  poison,  at  least  by  your  crimes.  I 
understand  all  now ;  she  was  not  delirious  this  morning. 
But  you  knew  well  what  she  would  say.  You  were  lis- 
tening; and,  if  you  dared  to  enter  at  the  moment  when 
one  word  would  have  destroyed  you,  it  was  because  you 
calculated  the  effect  of  your  presence.  It  was  to  you 
that  she  spoke  that  last  word,  '  Assassin  ! ' : 

Little  by  little,  Noel  had  retired  to  the  end  of  the 
room ;  and  he  stood  leaning  against  the  wall,  his  head 


418  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

thrown  back,  his  hair  on  end,  his  eye  haggard.  A  con- 
vulsive shudder  seized  him.  His  face  betrayed  a  terror 
most  horrible  to  see, — the  terror  of  a  discovered  crim- 
inal. 

"  I  know  all,  you  see,"  continued  the  count ;  "  and  I 
am  not  alone  in  that  knowledge.  At  this  moment,  a 
warrant  of  arrest  is  issued  against  you." 

A  cry  of  rage,  like  a  hollow  rattle,  burst  from  the  ad- 
vocate. His  lips,  which  were  hanging  through  terror, 
now  grew  firm.  Overwhelmed  in  the  very  midst  of  his 
triumph,  he  struggled  against  his  fright.  He  recovered 
himself  with  a  look  of  defiance. 

M.  de  Commarin,  without  seeming  to  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  Noel,  approached  a  desk,  and  opened  a  drawer. 

"  My  duty/'  said  he,  "  would  be  to  leave  you  to  the 
hangman  who  awaits  you ;  but  I  remember  that  I  have 
the  misfortune  to  be  your  father.  Sit  down ;  write  and 
sign  a  confession  of  your  crime.  You  will  then  find 
fire-arms  in  that  drawer.  May  heaven  forgive  you !  " 

The  old  gentleman  moved  towards  the  door.  Noel 
stopped  him ;  and  drawing  at  the  same  time  a  revolver 
from  his  pocket, — 

"  Your  fire-arms  are  needless,  monsieur,"  he  said : 
"  my  precautions,  you  see,  are  taken ;  they  will  never 
take  me  alive.  But — " 

"  But  ?  "  repeated  the  count  harshly. 

"  I  must  tell  you,  monsieur,"  continued  the  advocate 
coldly,  "  that  I  do  not  see  fit  to  kill  myself, — at  least,  at 
present." 

"  Ah !  "  cried  M.  de  Commarin  in  disgust,  "  you  are 
a  coward !  " 

"  No,  monsieur,  not  a  coward ;  but  I  will  not  give  in 
until  I  am  sure  that  every  opening  is  closed  against  me, 
— that  I  cannot  save  myself." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  419 

"  Miserable  wretch !  "  said  the  count,  threatening ; 
"  then  I  must  do  it." 

He  moved  towards  the  drawer;  but  Noel  closed  it 
with  a  slam. 

"  Listen  to  me,  monsieur,"  said  the  advocate  in  that 
hoarse,  quick  tone,  which  imminent  danger  gives  a  man ; 
"  do  not  waste  in  vain  words  the  few  moments'  respite 
left  me.  I  have  committed  a  crime,  it  is  true,  and  I  do 
not  attempt  to  justify  it ;  but  who  laid  the  foundation  of 
it,  if  not  yourself?  Now,  you  do  me  the  favor  of 
offering  me  a  pistol.  Thanks.  I  must  decline  it.  This 
generosity  is  not  through  any  regard  for  me :  you  only 
wish  to  avoid  the  scandal  of  my  trial,  and  the  disgrace 
which  cannot  fail  to  reflect  upon  your  name.'' 

The  count  was  about  to  reply. 

"  Give  me  leave,"  interrupted  Noel  imperiously.  "  I 
decline  killing  myself ;  I  wish  to  save  my  life,  if  possible. 
Supply  me  with  the  means  of  escape;  and  I  promise 
you  that  I  will  die  before  I  am  captured.  I  say,  supply 
me  with  means;  for  I  have  not  twenty  francs  to  my 
name.  My  last  bank  note  was  burnt  the  day  when — 
you  understand  me.  There  isn't  enough  in  my  mother's 
house  to  give  her  a  decent  burial.  Then,  some  money." 

"Never!" 

"  Then  I  will  deliver  myself  up ;  and  you  will  see  the 
effect  upon  the  name  you  hold  so  dear !  " 

The  count,  mad  with  rage,  jumped  to  his  desk  for  a 
pistol.  Noel  placed  himself  before  him. 

"  Oh,  do  not  struggle !  "  said  he  coldly ;  "  I  am  the 
strongest." 

M.  de  Commarin  recoiled. 

By  thus  speaking  of  the  trial,  of  scandal,  disgrace,  the 
advocate  had  made  an  impression  upon  him. 

For  a  moment  hesitating  between  love  for  his  name 


420  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

and  his  burning  desire  to  see  this  wretch  punished,  the 
old  gentleman  stood  undecided. 

Finally  his  feeling  for  his  position  triumphed. 

"  Let  us  end  this,"  he  said  in  a  voice  trembling  and 
filled  with  the  utmost  contempt ;  "  let  us  end  this  dis- 
graceful scene.  What  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  you,  money, — all  that  you  have  here. 
But  decide  quickly." 

On  Saturday  the  count  had  drawn  from  his  bankers 
the  sum  he  had  set  aside  for  fitting  up  the  rooms  of  him 
whom  he  thought  his  legitimate  child. 

"  I  have  eighty  thousand  francs  here,"  he  replied. 

"  That's  very  little,"  said  the  advocate ;  "  but  give 
them  to  me.  I  had  counted  upon  five  hundred  thousand 
francs  from  you.  If  I  succeed  in  escaping  my  pursuers, 
you  must  hold  at  my  disposal  the  balance,  four  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  francs.  Will  you  pledge  yourself 
to  give  them  to  me  at  the  first  demand?  I  will  find 
some  means  of  sending  for  them,  without  risk  to  myself. 
At  that  price,  you  need  never  fear  seeing  me  again." 

For  his  only  reply,  the  count  opened  a  little  iron  chest 
imbedded  in  the  wall,  and  drew  out  a  roll  of  bank  notes, 
which  he  threw  at  Noel's  feet. 

A  gleam  of  anger  flashed  in  the  advocate's  eyes,  as  he 
took  one  step  towards  his  father. 

"  Oh,  do  not  push  me  too  far !  "  he  said  threaten- 
ingly ;  "  people  who,  like  me,  having  nothing  to  lose, 
are  dangerous.  I  may  free  myself,  and — " 

He  bent  down,  however,  and  picked  up  the  notes. 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  word,"  he  continued,  "  to 
let  me  have  the  rest  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  am  going.  Do  not  fear.  I  will  be  faithful 
to  our  compact:  they  shall  not  take  me  alive.  Adieu! 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  421 

my  father :  you  are  the  true  criminal ;  but  you  will  es- 
cape punishment.  Ah,  heaven  is  not  just!  I  curse 
you." 

When,  an  hour  later,  the  servants  entered  the  count's 
study,  they  found  him  stretched  on  the  floor,  his  face 
against  the  carpet,  with  scarcely  a  sign  of  life. 

But  Noel  left  the  house,  and  staggered  up  the  Rue 
Universite. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  the  pavement  reeled  beneath  his 
feet,  and  that  every  thing  about  him  was  turning. 

But,  at  the  same  time,  strange  to  relate,  he  felt  an 
incredible  relief,  almost  delight. 

Honest  Balan's  theory  was  correct. 

It  was  ended.  All  was  over;  he  was  ruined.  No 
more  anguish  now,  no  more  useless  fright  and  foolish 
terrors,  no  more  dissembling,  struggling.  Henceforth 
there  was  nothing  more  to  fear.  His  horrible  role  played 
to  the  bitter  end,  he  could  lay  aside  his  mask  and  breathe 
freely. 

An  irresistible  weariness  succeeding  to  the  highly- 
wrought  passion  which  had  sustained  him  before  the 
count  destroyed  his  impudent  arrogance.  All  the  springs 
of  his  organization,  stretched  for  a  week  beyond  their 
limits,  now  relaxed  and  gave  way.  The  fever  which  for 
the  last  eight  days  had  kept  him  up  failed  him  now ;  and, 
with  the  weariness,  he  felt  an  imperative  need  of  rest. 
He  experienced  a  great  void,  an  utter  indifference  for 
every  thing. 

His  insensibility  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  that 
felt  by  people  afflicted  with  sea-sickness ;  who  care  for 
nothing,  whom  no  sensations  are  capable  of  moving,  who 
have  neither  strength  nor  courage  to  think,  and  who 
could  not  be  aroused  from  their  lethargy  by  the  presence 
of  any  great  danger,  not  even  of  death  itself. 


422  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

They  might  have  arrested  him  then;  and  he  would 
never  have  thought  of  resisting,  nor  of  defending  him- 
self:  he  could  not  have  taken  a  step  to  hide,  to  fly,  to 
save  himself  in  any  way. 

For  a  moment  he  had  serious  thoughts  of  giving  him- 
self up  as  a  prisoner,  in  order  to  secure  peace,  to  gain 
quiet,  to  free  himself  from  this  anxiety  about  his  safety. 

But  he  struggled  against  this  dull  stupor.  The  reac- 
tion came,  shaking  off  this  weakness  of  mind  and  body. 

The  consciousness  of  his  position,  of  his  danger,  came 
to  him.  He  foresaw,  with  horror,  the  scaffold,  as  one 
sees  the  abyss  by  the  flashes  of  lightning. 

"  I  must  save  my  life,"  he  thought ;  "  but  how  ?  " 

That  mortal  terror  which  deprives  the  assassin  of  even 
ordinary  common  sense  seized  him. 

He  looked  eagerly  about  him,  and  thought  he  noticed 
three  or  four  passers  by  look  at  him  curiously.  His  ter- 
ror increased. 

He  began  running  in  the  direction  of  the  Latin  quar- 
ter without  purpose,  without  aim,  running  for  the  sake 
of  running,  to  escape  himself, — like  Crime,  as  repre- 
sented by  the  painter,  fleeing  under  the  lashes  of  the 
furies. 

He  very  soon  stopped  however,  seeing  that  this  ex- 
traordinary procedure  attracted  attention. 

It  seemed  that  every  one  was  on  the  point  of  de- 
nouncing him  as  the  murderer :  he  thought  he  read  con- 
tempt and  horror  upon  every  face,  suspicion  in  every 
eye. 

He  walked  along,  instinctively  repeating  to  himself, — 

"  I  must  follow  some  plan ! '' 

But,  in  this  horrible  excitement,  he  was  incapable  of 
seeing  any  thing,  of  thinking,  planning,  determining, 
deciding. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  423 

When  he  first  thought  of  the  crime,  he  had  said  to 
himself,  "  I  may  be  discovered."  And,  with  this  in 
sight,  he  had  perfected  a  plan  which  should  put  him  be- 
yond all  fear  of  pursuit.  He  would  do  this  and  that; 
he  would  have  recourse  to  this  ruse,  he  would  take  that 
precaution.  Useless  forethought.  Nothing  of  this  plan 
seemed  feasible  now.  They  were  seeking  for  him ;  and 
he  could  think  of  no  place  in  the  whole  world  where  he 
would  feel  perfectly  safe. 

He  was  near  the  Odeon,  when  a  thought  quicker  than 
a  flash  of  lightning  lit  up  the  darkness  of  his  brain. 

He  thought  that  they  were  doubtless  already  in  pur- 
suit of  him ;  his  description  would  be  given  everywhere ; 
his  white  cravat  and  well-dressed  whiskers  would  betray 
him  as  surely  as  though  he  carried  a  placard. 

Seeing  a  barber's  shop,  he  went  to  the  door ;  but,  while 
turning  the  knob,  he  grew  frightened. 

They  would  think  it  singular  that  he  wanted  his  beard 
shaved ;  and  if  they  should  question  him. 

He  passed  on. 

He  saw  another  barber's  shop ;  and  the  same  doubts 
prevented  his  entering. 

Gradually  night  came  on;  and,  with  the  darkness, 
Noel  seemed  to  recover  his  confidence  and  boldness. 

After  this  great  shipwreck  in  port,  hope  arose  again 
to  the  surface.  Why  could  he  not  save  himself? 

There  had  been  many  just  such  cases.  He  would  go 
to  a  foreign  country,  change  his  name,  begin  life  over 
again,  become  a  new  man  entirely.  He  had  the  money ; 
and  that  was  the  principal  thing. 

And,  besides,  when  these  eighty  thousand  francs  were 
spent,  he  had  the  certainty  of  receiving,  on  his  first  re- 
quest, five  or  six  times  as  much  more. 

He  was  already  thinking  of  the  disguise  he  should 


424  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

assume,  and  the  frontier  to  which  he  should  go,  when  a 
recollection  of  Juliette  crossed  his  heart  like  a  hot  iron. 

Was  he  going  to  escape  without  her,  go  away  with  the 
certainty  of  never  seeing  her  again  ? 

Should  he  fly,  pursued  by  all  the  police  in  the  world, 
tracked  like  a  deer,  and  she  remain  peaceably  in  Paris? 
Impossible.  For  whom  had  he  committed  this  crime? 
For  her.  Who  reaped  the  benefits  of  it  ?  She.  Was  it 
not  just,  then,  that  she  should  bear  her  share  of  the  pun- 
ishment ? 

"  She  does  not  love  me,"  thought  the  advocate  with 
bitterness ;  "  she  never  loved  me.  She  would  be  de- 
lighted to  be  forever  free  from  me.  She  will  not  regret 
me,  now  that  I  can  be  of  no  more  use  to  her.  An  empty 
coffer  is  an  unserviceable  piece  of  furniture.  Juliette 
is  prudent ;  she  has  managed  to  save  a  pretty  little  for- 
tune. Grown  rich  at  my  expense,  she  will  take  some 
new  lover.  She  will  forget  me:  she  will  live  happily; 
while  I —  And  I  was  going  away  without  her." 

The  voice  of  prudence  cried  out  to  him,  "  Wretched 
man !  to  drag  a  woman  with  you,  and  such  a  woman,  is 
but  to  draw  attention  upon  you,  to  render  flight  impossi- 
ble, to  give  yourself  up  out  of  mere  wantonness." 

"What  of  that?"  replied  passion.  "We  will  be 
saved,  or  we  will  perish  together.  If  she  does  not  love 
me,  I  love  her.  She  is  a  necessity  to  me.  She  must 
come,  or — " 

But  how  to  see  Juliette,  to  speak  with  her,  to  persuade 
her. 

To  go  to  her  house  would  expose  him  too  much.  The 
police  were  doubtless  there  already. 

"  No,"  thought  Noel ;  "  no  one  knows  that  she  is  my 
mistress.  They  won't  find  it  out  for  two  or  three  days ; 
and,  besides,  it  would  be  more  dangerous  still  to  write." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE          425 

He  took  a  carriage  from  the  stand  not  far  from  the 
square  L'Observatoire,  and  in  a  low  tone  told  the  driver 
the  fatal  number  of  the  house  in  the  Rue  Provence. 

Stretched  on  the  cushions  of  the  carriage,  lulled  by  its 
monotonous  rattle,  Noel  gave  no  thought  to  the  future; 
he  did  not  even  think  over  what  he  should  say  to  Juli- 
ette. No.  Involuntarily  he  passed  in  review  the  events 
which  had  brought  on  and  hastened  the  catastrophe,  like 
a  man  who,  near  his  death,  reviews  the  tragedy  or  com- 
edy of  his  life. 

He  thought  over  the  past  month,  day  by  day. 

Ruined,  without  expedients,  without  resources,  he  had 
determined  at  all  hazards  to  procure  money,  to  still  keep 
Madame  Juliette ;  when  one  day  chance  made  him  mas- 
ter of  the  correspondence  of  the  Count  de  Commarin, — 
not  only  the  letters  read  to  Pere  Tabaret,  and  shown  to 
Albert,  but  also  those,  which,  written  by  the  count  when 
he  believed  the  substitution  accomplished,  plainly  estab- 
lished the  fact. 

The  reading  of  these  gave  him  an  hour  of  mad  de- 
.  light. 

He  believed  himself  the  legitimate  son ;  but  soon  his 
mother  undeceived  him,  told  him  the  truth,  proved  it  to 
him  by  many  letters  from  the  Widow  Lerouge,  called 
Claudine  to  witness  it,  and  demonstrated  it  by  the  scar 
he  bore. 

But  a  drowning  man  never  chooses  what  branch  he 
will  draw  himself  out  by.  He  takes  the  first  that  comes. 
Noel  resolved  to  make  use  of  these  letters. 

He  attempted  to  use  his  ascendancy  over  his  mother, 
to  induce  her  to  leave  the  count  in  his  ignorance,  so  that 
he  might  thus  blackmail  him.  But  Madame  Gerdy  re- 
pulsed this  proposition  with  horror. 

Then  the  advocate  made  a  confession  of  all  his  follies, 


426  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

laid  bare  his  financial  condition,  showed  himself  in  his 
true  light,  sunk  in  debt;  and  he  begged  his  mother  to 
have  recourse  to  M.  de  Commarin. 

This  also  she  refused ;  and  prayers  and  threats  availed 
nothing  against  her  resolution.  For  five  days,  there  was 
a  great  struggle  between  mother  and  son,  in  which  the 
advocate  was  finally  conquered. 

It  was  then  that  idea  of  murdering  Claudine  occurred 
to  him. 

The  unhappy  woman  had  been  no  more  frank  with 
Madame  Gerdy  than  with -Others;  and  Noel  thought 
her  a  widow.  Her  testimony  suppressed,  therefore,  who 
else  stood  in  his  way  ? 

Madame  Gerdy,  and  perhaps  the  count. 

He  feared  them  but  little. 

If  Madame  Gerdy  spoke,  he  could  always  reply,  "  You 
have  stolen  my  name  for  your  son :  and  you  will  do  any 
thing  in  the  world  to  preserve  it  for  him."  But  how  to 
do  away  with  Claudine  without  danger  ? 

After  long  reflection  the  advocate  thought  of  a  dia- 
bolical stratagem. 

He  would  burn  all  the  count's  letters  establishing  the 
substitution,  and  preserve  only  those  rendering  it  prob- 
able. 

These  last  he  would  show  to  Albert,  feeling  sure,  that, 
if  Justice  ever  inquired  into  the  matter,  it  would  natu- 
rally suspect  him  who  appeared  to  have  so  much  inter- 
est in  Claudine's  death. 

Not  that  he  really  thought  of  attaching  the  crime  upon 
Albert ;  it  was  simply  a  precaution.  He  counted  upon 
so  arranging  matters  that  the  police  would  lose  their 
trouble,  in  the  pursuit  of  an  imaginary  criminal. 

Nor  did  he  think  of  ousting  the  Viscount  de  Com- 
marin, and  putting  himself  in  his  place. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  427 

His  plan  was  simply,  the  crime  once  committed,  he 
would  wait;  things  would  take  their  own  course.  He 
would  negotiate,  he  would  compromise,  at  the  price  of  a 
fortune. 

He  felt  sure  of  his  mother's  silence,  provided  she  never 
suspected  him  of  the  assassination. 

His  plans  laid,  he  decided  to  strike  the  fatal  blow  on 
Shrove  Tuesday. 

To  neglect  no  precaution,  he  would  that  evening  him- 
self take  Juliette  to  the  theatre,  and  afterwards  to  the 
opera  ball.  He  would  thus  secure,  in  case  things  went 
wrong,  an  unanswerable  alibi. 

The  loss  of  his  great  coat  troubled  him  for  a  moment ; 
but,  upon  reflection,  he  reassured  himself,  saying, — 

"  Pshaw !  who  will  ever  know  ?  " 

Every  thing  had  resulted  in  accordance  with  his  cal- 
culations. He  thought  that  now  it  was  but  a  matter  of 
patience. 

But,  when  Madame  Gerdy  read  the  story  of  the  mur- 
der, the  unhappy  woman  divined  her  son's  work ;  and, 
in  the  first  transports  of  her  grief,  she  declared  that  she 
would  denounce  him. 

He  was  terrified.  A  mad  fear  of  his  mother  possessed 
him.  One  word  from  her  might  destroy  him.  Putting 
a  bold  face  on  it,  however,  he  took  the  chances,  staking 
his  all. 

To  put  the  police  on  Albert's  track  was  to  guar- 
antee his  own  safety,  to  insure  to  himself,  in  case  of  suc- 
cess, the  name  and  fortune  of  the  Count  de  Com- 
marin. 

Circumstances,  as  well  as  his  own  terror,  had  in- 
creased his  boldness  and  his  acuteness. 

Pere  Tabaret's  visit  occurred  just  then. 

Noel  knew  of  his  connection  with  the  police,  and  knew 


428  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

that  the  old  fellow  would  make  a  most  valuable  confix 
dant. 

So  long  as  Madame  Gerdy  lived,  Noel  trembled.  The 
fever  was  untrustworthy,  and  might  betray  him.  But, 
when  she  had  breathed  her  last,  he  believed  himself  safe. 
He  thought  it  all  over ;  he  could  see  no  obstacle  in  his 
way;  he  had  triumphed. 

And  now  all  was  discovered,  just  as  he  was  about  to 
reap  the  benefits.  But  how  ?  by  whom  ?  What  fatality 
had  unearthed  a  secret  which  he  had  believed  buried  with 
Madame  Gerdy? 

But  what  boots  it,  when  one  is  at  the  bottom  of  an 
abyss,  to  know  what  stone  had  given  way,  to  ask  by  what 
descent  he  had  fallen  ? 

The  hack  stopped  in  the  Rue  Provence. 

Noel  leaned  out  of  the  door,  searching  the  neighbor- 
hood, throwing  a  glance  into  the  depths  of  the  porter's 
lodge. 

Seeing  no  one,  he  paid  his  fare  through  the  front  win- 
dow, before  getting  out  of  the  carriage,  and,  crossing 
the  pavement  with  a  bound,  he  leaped  up  the  stairway. 

Charlotte,  at  sight  of  him,  gave  a  shout  of  joy. 

"  You  are  here !  ''  she  cried.  "  Ah,  madame  has  been 
expecting  you  with  the  greatest  impatience!  She  is 
very  anxious." 

Juliette  expecting  him  !     Juliette  anxious ! 

The  advocate  did  not  stop  to  ask  questions.  On  reach- 
ing this  spot,  he  seemed  suddenly  to  recover  his  coolness. 
He  could  understand  his  imprudence ;  he  knew  the  exact 
value  of  every  instant. 

"  If  any  one  rings,"  said  he  to  Charlotte,  "  don't  let 
them  in.  No  matter  what  they  do  or  say,  don't  let  them 
in." 

On  hearing  Noel's  voice,  Juliette  ran  out  to  meet  him. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  429 

He  pushed  her  gruffly  into  the  salon,  and  followed,  clos- 
ing the  door. 

There  for  the  first  time  she  saw  his  face. 

He  was  so  changed ;  his  look  was  so  haggard  that  she 
could  not  keep  from  crying  out, — 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

Noel  made  no  reply ;  he  advanced  towards  and  took 
her  hand. 

"  Juliette,"  he  demanded  in  a  hollow  voice,  fastening 
his  flashing  eyes  upon  her, — "  Juliette,  be  sincere ;  do 
you  love  me?  " 

She  instinctively  felt  that  something  dreadful  had 
occurred :  she  seemed  to  breathe  an  atmosphere  of  evil ; 
but  she,  as  usual,  affected  indifference. 

"  You  ill-natured  fellow,"  she  replied,  pouting  her 
lips  most  provokingly,  "  do  you  deserve — " 

"  Oh,  enough !  "  broke  in  Noel,  stamping  his  feet 
fiercely.  "  Answer  me,"  he  continued,  bruising  her 
pretty  hands  in  his  grasp,  "  yes,  or  no, — do  you  love 
me?" 

A  hundred  times  had  she  played  with  her  lover's  an- 
ger, delighting  to  excite  him  into  a  fury,  to  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  appeasing  him  with  a  word;  but  she  had 
never  seen  him  like  this  before. 

She  had  wronged  him  greatly;  and  she  dared  not 
complain  of  this  his  first  harshness. 

"  Yes,  I  love  you,"  she  stammered,  "  do  you  not  know 
it?" 

"Why?"  replied  the  advocate,  releasing  her  hands; 
"  why?  Because,  if  you  love  me  you  must  prove  it;  if 
you  love  me,  you  must  follow  me  at  once, — abandon 
every  thing.  Come,  fly  with  me.  Time  presses — " 

The  young  girl  was  terrified. 

"  Great  heavens !  what  has  happened  ?  " 


430  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  Nothing,  except  that  I  have  loved  you  too  much, 
Juliette.  When  I  found  I  had  no  more  money  for  your 
luxury,  your  caprices,  I  became  wild.  To  procure  money, 
I, — I  committed  a  crime, — a  crime ;  do  you  understand  ? 
They  are  pursuing  me  now.  I  must  fly :  will  you  fol- 
low me  ?  " 

Juliette's  eyes  grew  wide  with  astonishment ;  but  she 
doubted  Noel. 

"  A  crime  ?    You  ?  "  she  began. 

"  Yes,  me !  Would  you  know  the  truth  ?  I  have 
committed  murder,  an  assassination.  But  it  was  all 
for  you." 

The  advocate  felt  that  Juliette  would  certainly  recoil 
from  him  in  horror.  He  expected  that  terror  which  a 
murderer  inspires.  He  was  resigned  to  it  in  advance. 
He  thought  that  she  would  fly  from  him ;  perhaps  there 
would  be  a  scene.  She  might,  who  knows,  have  hys- 
terics ;  might  cry  out,  call  for  succor,  for  help,  for  aid. 
He  was  wrong. 

With  a  bound,  Juliette  flew  to  him,  throwing  herself 
upon  him,  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  embraced  him  as 
she  had  never  embraced  him  before. 

"  Yes,  I  do  love  you !  "  she  cried.  "  Yes,  you  have 
committed  a  crime  for  my  sake,  because  you  loved  me. 
You  have  a  heart.  I  never  really  knew  you  before !  " 

It  had  cost  him  dear  to  inspire  this  passion  in  Madame 
Juliette ;  but  Noel  never  thought  of  that. 

He  experienced  a  moment  of  intense  delight :  nothing 
appeared  hopeless  to  him  now. 

But  he  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  free  himself  from 
her  embrace 

"  Let  us  go,"  he  said ;  "  the  one  great  danger  is,  that 
I  do  not  know  from  whence  the  attack  comes.  How 
they  have  discovered  the  truth  is  still  a  mystery  to  me." 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  431 

Juliette  remembered  her  alarming  visitor  of  the  after- 
noon ;  she  understood  it  all. 

"  Oh,  what  a  wretched  woman  I  am ! "  she  cried, 
wringing  her  hands  in  despair ;  "  it  is  I  who  have  be- 
trayed you.  It  occurred  on  Tuesday,  did  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Tuesday." 

"  Ah,  then  I  have  told  all,  without  a  doubt,  to  your 
friend,  the  old  man  I  supposed  you  had  sent,  Ta- 
baret!" 

"  Has  Tabaret  been  here  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  just  a  little  while  ago." 

"  Come,  then,"  cried  Noel,  "  quickly ;  it's  a  miracle 
that  he  hasn't  been  back." 

He  took  her  arm,  to  hurry  her  away ;  but  she  nimbly 
released  herself. 

"  Wait,"  said  she.  "  I  have  some  money,  some  jew- 
els. I  will  take  them.'' 

"  It  is  useless.  Leave  every  thing  behind.  I  have  a 
fortune,  Juliette ;  let  us  fly !  " 

She  had  already  opened  her  jewel  box,  and  was  throw- 
ing every  thing  of  value  that  she  possessed  pell  mell  into 
a  little  travelling  bag. 

"  Ah,  you  are  ruining  me,"  cried  Noel,  "  you  are  ruin- 
ing me !  " 

He  spoke  thus;  but  his  heart  was  overflowing  with 
joy. 

"  What  sublime  devotion !  She  loves  me  truly,"  he 
said  to  himself ;  "  for  me,  she  renounces  this  happy  life 
without  hesitation ;  for  me,  she  sacrifices  all !  " 

Juliette  had  finished  her  preparations,  and  was  quietly 
tying  on  her  bonnet,  when  the  door-bell  rang. 

"  They  are  here !  "  cried  Noel,  becoming,  if  possible, 
even  more  livid. 

They  stood  as  immovable  as  two  statues ;  great  drops 


432  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

of  perspiration  on  their  foreheads,  their  eyes  dilated, 
listening  breathlessly. 

A  second  ring  was  heard,  then  a  third. 

Charlotte  appeared,  walking  on  tip-toe. 

"  There  are  a  great  many  at  the  door,"  she  whispered ; 
"  I  heard  them  talking  together." 

Growing  tired  of  ringing,  they  began  pounding.  A 
voice  reached  the  salon ;  they  distinguished  but  the  one 
word,  "  law." 

"  No  hope !  "  murmured  Noel. 

"  Don't  despair,"  cried  Juliette ;  "  the  servant's  stair- 
way !  " 

"  They  will  scarcely  leave  that  unguarded." 

Then   Juliette  became   depressed,   terrified. 

She  was  surprised  by  heavy  steps  on  the  stairway, 
made  by  some  one  endeavoring  to  walk  softly. 

*'  There  must  be  some  escape !  "  she  cried  fiercely. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Noel,  "  one  way.  I  have  given  my 
word.  They  will  pick  the  lock.  Bolt  all  the  doors,  and 
make  them  break  them  down :  it  will  gain  time  for  me." 

Juliette  and  Charlotte  sprang  forward  to  do  this, 
Noel,  leaning  against  the  mantel,  took  out  his  revolver, 
and  placed  it  against  his  breast. 

But  Juliette,  who  had  returned,  perceiving  the  move- 
ment, threw  herself  headlong  upon  her  lover,  to  prevent 
his  purpose,  but  so  violently  that  the  pistol  was  dis- 
charged. The  shot  took  effect,  the  ball  passing  through 
Noel's  stomach.  He  gave  a  terrible  cry. 

Juliette  had  made  his  death  a  terrible  punishment ;  she 
had  only  prolonged  his  agony. 

He  staggered,  but  did  not  fall,  supporting  himself  by 
the  mantel,  while  the  blood  flowed  copiously. 

Juliette  clung  to  him,  trying  to  wrest  the  pistol  from 
him. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  433 

"  You  shall  not  kill  yourself,"  she  cried,  "  you  shall 
not.  You  are  mine ;  I  love  you.  Let  them  come.  What 
can  they  do  to  you  ?  If  they  imprison  you,  you  can  es- 
cape. I  will  aid  you :  we  will  bribe  the  jailors.  Come. 
We  will  live  so  happily,  no  matter  where,  far  off  in 
America  where  no  one  knows  us !  " 

The  outside  door  had  yielded ;  they  were  now  at  work 
at  the  door  of  the  ante-chamber. 

"  Hush !  "  murmured  Noel ;  "  they  must  not  take 
me  alive !  " 

And,  with  one  last  effort,  triumphing  over  his  dread- 
ful agony,  he  released  himself,  and  pushed  Juliette  away, 
who  fell  back  on  a  near  sofa. 

Then,  seizing  the  revolver,  he  applied  it  anew  to  the 
place  where  he  felt  his  heart  beating  pulled  the  trigger, 
and  rolled  to  the  floor. 

It  was  full  time ;  for  the  police  at  that  moment  burst 
open  the  door. 

The  first  thought  of  the  detectives  was,  that  Noel,  be- 
fore shooting  himself,  had  shot  his  mistress. 

They  knew  of  cases  where  people  had  romantically 
desired  to  quit  this  world  together;  and  had  they  not 
heard  two  shots?  But  Juliette  was  already  on  her  feet 
again. 

"  A  doctor,"  she  cried,  "  a  doctor !  He  cannot  be 
dead ! " 

One  man  ran  out ;  while  the  others,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Pere  Tabaret,  carried  the  advocate's  body,  and 
laid  it  on  Madame  Juliette's  bed. 

"He  cannot  live!"  murmured  the  old  man,  whose 
anger  left  him  at  the  sight.  "  I  loved  him  as  though 
he  were  my  child  ;  his  name  is  still  on  my  will !  " 

Pere  Tabaret  stopped.  Noel  uttered  a  groan,  and 
opened  his  eyes. 


434  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

"  You  see  that  he  will  live !  "  cried  Juliette. 

The  advocate  shook  his  head  feebly,  and,  for  a  mo- 
ment, he  tossed  himself  painfully  on  the  bed,  passing  his 
right  hand  first  under  his  coat,  and  then  under  his  pillow. 

He  turned  himself  half-way  towards  the  wall,  and 
then  back  again. 

Upon  a  sign,  easily  understood,  they  placed  another 
pillow  beneath  his  head. 

Then,  in  a  broken,  stifled  voice,  he  spoke  a  few  words. 

"  I  am  the  assassin,"  he  said.  "  Write,  I  will  sign  it ; 
it  will  free  Albert.  I  owe  him  that  at  least." 

While  they  were  writing,  he  drew  Juliette  to  him. 

"  My  fortune  is  beneath  the  pillow,"  he  whispered. 
"  I  give  it  all  to  you." 

A  flow  of  blood  burst  from  his  mouth;  and  they 
thought  he  was  dying. 

But  he  still  had  strength  enough  to  sign  the  confes- 
sion, and  to  launch  a  joke  at  Pere  Tabaret. 

"  Ah,  ha,  old  fellow !  "  he  said,  "  so  you  are  a  de- 
tective, eh  ?  It  must  be  great  fun  to  trap  one's  friends ! 
Ah,  I  have  had  a  fine  game ;  but,  with  three  women  in 
the  play,  you  are  always  sure  to  lose." 

He  fell  back  in  agony ;  and,  when  the  doctor  arrived, 
he  could  only  announce  the  death  of  Maitre  Noel  Gerdy, 
advocate. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SOME  months  later,  one  evening,  at  old  Mademoiselle 
Goello's,  the  Marquise  d'Arlanges,  looking  ten  years 
younger  than  when  we  saw  her  last,  was  giving  her  dow- 
ager friends  an  account  of  the  wedding  of  her  grand- 
daughter Claire,  who  had  married  the  Viscount  Albert 
de  Commarin. 


THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE  435 

"  The  marriage,"  said  she,  "  took  place  on  our  estate 
in  Normandy,  without  any  flourish  of  trumpets.  My 
son-in-law  wished  it ;  but  I  disapproved  heartily.  The 
noise  about  the  mistake  of  which  he  had  been  the  victim 
would  have  given  eclat  to  the  wedding.  That  was  my 
opinion;  and  I  made  no  effort  to  conceal  it.  Pshaw! 
the  boy  is  as  stubborn  as  his  father,  which  is  saying  a 
good  deal :  he  persisted  in  his  course ;  and  my  shameless 
grandchild,  obedient  to  her  future  husband,  took  her 
stand  against  me.  And  yet  I  defy  any  one  to  find  to-day 
a  single  individual  with  courage  enough  to  confess  that 
he  ever  for  an  instant  doubted  Albert's  innocence.  I 
have  left  the  young  people  in  all  the  happiness  of  the 
honeymoon,  billing  and  cooing  like  a  pair  of  turtle-doves. 
It  must  be  confessed  that  they  have  paid  dearly  for  their 
happiness.  May  they  be  happy,  and  may  they  have 
lots  of  children !  for  they  will  find  no  difficulty  in  pro- 
viding for  them.  For,  do  you  know,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  and  probably  for  the  last,  the  count  has  behaved 
like  an  angel !  He  has  settled  all  his  fortune  on  his  son 
absolutely.  He  intends  living  alone  at  one  of  his  coun- 
try-seats. I  don't  think  the  old  man  is  quite  himself.  I 
am  not  sure  that  he  has  entirely  recovered  his  head  since 
that  attack;  but  my  grandchild  is  nicely  settled.  I 
know  what  it  has  cost  me,  and  how  economical  I  shall 
have  to  be;  but  I  despise  parents  who  hesitate  at  any 
pecuniary  sacrifice,  when  the  happiness  of  their  children 
is  at  stake." 

The  marquise  forgot,  however,  to  state  that,  eight  days 
before  the  wedding,  Albert  had  freed  her  from  a  very 
embarrassing  situation,  and  had  discharged  a  very  con- 
siderable amount  of  her  debts. 

Since  then,  she  had  borrowed  from  him  only  nine 
thousand  francs;  but  she  intended  confessing  to  him 


436  THE  WIDOW  LEROUGE 

some  day  how  much  she  was  annoyed  by  an  upholsterer, 
by  her  dressmaker,  by  three  linen  drapers,  and  by  five  or 
six  other  tradesmen. 

Ah,  well,  she  was  a  worthy  woman;  she  never  said 
any  evil  about  her  son-in-law ! 

Taking  refuge  in  Poitou,  after  sending  in  his  resigna- 
tion, Daburon  sought  rest  and  forgetfulness.  His 
friends,  however,  do  not  despair  of  some  time  inducing 
him  to  marry. 

Madame  Juliette  was  entirely  consoled.  The  eighty 
thousand  francs  hidden  by  Noel  under  the  pillows  were 
not  taken  from  her.  She  had  much  more  beside,  as  it 
was  not  long  before  the  sale  of  her  magnificently  fur- 
nished apartments  was  announced. 

Pere  Tabaret  was  alone  indelibly  impressed.  After 
having  believed  in  the  infallibility  of  justice,  he  now  saw 
no  errors  so  great  as  judicial  ones. 

The  old  amateur  detective  doubted  the  existence  of 
crime,  and  believed  that  the  evidence  of  one's  senses 
proved  nothing.  He  circulated  a  petition  for  the  aboli- 
tion of  capital  punishment,  and  organized  a  society  for 
aiding  the  poor  and  innocent  accused. 


THE  2 


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